


Awaiting Redemption

by Scorpia11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advocate, Anxiety, Azkaban, Back to Hogwarts, Broken, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Finding Peace, First Time, Forgivness, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealous Ron Weasley, Making Love, Making Out, Mind Healers (Harry Potter), Nightmares, Oral Sex, Parolee, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Potion abuse, Punishment, Scars, Self-Doubt, Sex, Substance Abuse, Supportive Harry Potter, Therapy, Torture, Violence, dealing with grief, eighth year, sort of slow burn, withdrawls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpia11/pseuds/Scorpia11
Summary: Having been arrested and tried for his war crimes, Draco Malfoy finds himself in the advocacy of Hermione Granger for two years. She's put nearly everything on the line for him & he can't possibly begin to understand why. Together can they navigate the repercussions of war and find peace? Or will he find himself thrown back in Azkaban? HEA, EWE, R&R, Warning Inside SPORADIC UPDATES
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter the amazingly talented JK Rowling does…I just enjoy playing with her characters.
> 
> **Warning: This story will include violence, torture, insinuations of rape (M/M) with slight description through nightmares, cursing, and sexual content. If these are themes you are not comfortable with please move to another story as there will not be another warning later on.
> 
> **I want to give a shout out and say thanks to my Alpha, MrsRen, and Beta, Slytherin-Goddess214! Without them my stories would be a probable mess, so thanks ladies for everything!
> 
> **Without further ado here's my latest story...I hope you like the twist I'm taking and will leave a review! Thanks so much for everyone's understanding!

**Chapter 1:**

Draco Malfoy sat quietly, staring across at the cold grey stone wall of his cell. The second Wizarding War had been won and within mere hours of Potters' victory, Draco and his family had been apprehended and escorted to Azkaban for an undetermined amount of time. To be honest, he'd expected to be arrested and possibly tried and condemned for his part in the war…but nothing had prepared him for the realities of prison.

At seventeen years old, possibly eighteen if his birthday had passed, he was to be tried as an adult and therefore was placed alone in a small ten by ten stone cell without a window. The only source of light came from the torch lined corridor, filtering in through the bar's in the heavy wooden door sealing him in.

Inside the room was a waste pail in one corner and a thin bedroll stained and riddled with holes in the other. The small room held a pungent odor that nearly caused him to gag when the guards had initially opened the door. But he didn't bother crying out or beg to be released as they roughly shoved him forward, feeling that this is what he deserved after everything he'd witnessed during the war.

Days or possibly even weeks had passed since he'd been unceremoniously tossed inside and forgotten. His eyes had adjusted to the low lighting and he occupied his mind by counting the stones, their cracks, or minor imperfections to pass the time. Every now and then a tray of stale bread, cold soup, and what he assumed was unfiltered water would appear, providing him with little sustenance to keep him alive.

The silence was deafening and only broken every so often by the sound of the guard's boots as they passed his cell. They'd left him in his soiled black suit covered in a mixture of blood, soot, and debris from the battle. In fact, they hadn't even given him time to wash or provided him with a basin of water to clean the grime from his skin. The only thing he was grateful for by this point was that the Dementors had been removed from the premises and warming charms had been added to stave off the cold wind from the North Sea.

Uncertain of the number of days he'd spent in the darkened cell alone with his thoughts and memories, he began to wonder if this was it for him? Was this where he would die? Would there even be a trial or would it be like the first Wizarding War where opponents from the losing side were thrown behind bars and forgotten? Fear gripped him as the worrisome thoughts crossed his mind for what he felt was the second day in a row. He'd lived through hell the past few years and swore if they knew everything he'd witnessed and been subjected to they'd let him walk free.

Shaking the fear from his mind, he began to count the cracks in the far wall once again, starting in the bottom left-hand corner. As he neared a hundred and thirty-eight, the sound of boots marching down the stone hallway reverberated in the cell and momentarily broke his concentration. He recalled hearing the guards patrol the hallway hours earlier and was surprised to hear them again so soon.

The sound grew as the guard walked further down the corridor and stopped just outside his cell. The scraping of a heavy metal lock jolted Draco from his curiosity and replaced it with fear of the unknown as he scrambled to his feet and crouched backward into the corner…attempting his best to make himself as small as possible.

Torchlight flooded the room as a burly guard swung the door outwards and stepped inside. He carried a simple wooden chair in one hand and his wand in the other. The pale wizard shrank further into his corner, fearful of what would happen as the guard slammed the chair in place and glared at him through narrowed slits.

"Stand-up," he snapped, "and put your hands out to your sides." Draco swallowed hard but followed the instructions without question. The guard stepped back two paces before pointing at the chair "Get over here and sit down… _now,_ " he barked. Again, the young wizard did as he was told and sat in the slat-backed wooden chair before placing his hands behind his back while the guard bound them together. He'd tried to mask the fear in his eyes from being confined, but judging by the guard's cruel smirk, he hadn't succeeded.

Without another word, the guard exited the room and spoke quietly to another individual. Draco's heart was pounding in his chest as unbidden questions ran through his mind. Were they here to release him? Was he finally receiving a trial? Or was this when the abuse would begin? Maybe even his execution. His mind ran rampant with possible scenarios in a matter of seconds before a heavily cloaked individual stepped into the room, closing the wooden door behind them.

The stone mask of indifference, he'd mastered while living with Voldemort, slid into place…concealing his fear and anxiety. His silver gaze flickered over the figure before him dressed in a hooded black cloak, reminiscent to that of a Death Eaters'. Their stature was small and slender but outside of the pale hand grasping a wand, he couldn't make out any other features.

With a flick of their wrist, small lights illuminated the cell with a soft glow. But since Draco had become so accustomed to the shadows, the sudden brightness caused him to squint in obvious pain.

"Oh, sorry," a familiar soft feminine voice said before flicking her wand once more to dim the lights. "I hadn't realized you'd been subjected to darkness all this time. This is completely barbaric…" she huffed and shook the hood of her cloak in obvious disgust. Draco sat silently, unsure of what to say or ask…or if he was even allowed to speak at all. He had no idea what woman would bother traipsing to the middle of the North Sea to see him, but he didn't have to wait long as she lifted her slender hands to lower her hood.

Upon recognizing the curly-haired brunette as none other than Hermione Granger, war heroine and integral part of the Golden Trio who'd helped defeat the Dark Lord, he averted his gaze. This was the woman he had tormented for years at Hogwarts, treating her as scum beneath his shoes until the end of his fifth year. He'd been raised to believe pure-bloods were above everyone else, especially mudbloods…the muggle-borns whom Voldemort planned on eradicating.

It didn't matter that by the middle of his sixth year he'd disagreed with the Dark Lord's ideals or that by the time the Golden Trio had turned up at the Manor he'd prayed the light would win the blasted war. He may have lied in identifying Potter…essentially buying them time to escape…but he'd stood by and watched in horror as Hermione was tortured on his drawing room floor. His only guess as to why she was visiting him now was to repay the years of torment and possibly take advantage of the fact that he was bound to a chair to exact her revenge.

Lowering his head in defeat, he waited for the spell to leave her lips…the spell his deranged aunt had inflicted upon her repeatedly as he listened to her screams. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as she circled his chair.

"This is all they give you?" she inquired after several silent moments. Draco's eyes snapped open at the question and took in her narrowed eyes and nose wrinkled in disgust. Still uncertain if he was allowed to speak, he simply nodded his head. "This is just…" she exhaled sharply, clearly unable to articulate her outrage as she shook her head in disbelief, "I'll be speaking to Kingsley about this." Turning her eyes back to him, she looked over his filthy disheveled state, "Have they silenced you?" she questioned, raising her wand.

"N-no," he croaked out; his voice was dry and raspy with lack of use. Her brown eyes seemed to soften as they traveled over him once more. ' _Maybe she isn't here to torture me,'_ he thought hopefully as they assessed one another.

She was thin and underweight from spending the last year on the run, but he couldn't deny she looked better than when he'd last seen her. Her tamed curly hair was tied back in a ponytail, no longer dull and streaked with debris. She was clean and had a healthy glow about her skin, that of someone who'd been resting regularly. He didn't need a mirror to know he probably looked affright as he was still covered in dried blood, dirt, and grime.

"H-how l-long have I-I b-been-n in h-h-here," he asked after realizing she wasn't going to hurt him. His words were broken and barely audible due to the strain on his vocal cords. Without answering his question, she conjured a glass and filled it with clear water before stepping towards him. She gently lifted it to his cracked lips and poured the refreshing liquid inside, soothing the pain in his throat.

"Here, is that better?" she queried after he drank greedily from the proffered cup. The tip of his tongue jutted out over his dry lips as he nodded his head vigorously.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"You're welcome, Malfoy," she replied softly before offering him more. He drank three full glasses before finally sitting back, indicating he was done.

"Not that I'm not grateful for the visit but why are you here, Granger? And you never answered my first question." She vanished the glass and took a deep breath before meeting his steely gaze.

"You've been here for four weeks," she stated honestly. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but a lot has happened since the final battle and it was imperative that I attend the meetings held at the Ministry or this would be all for naught."

"Why? What's happened?" he inquired with a mixture of curiosity and panic.

"Well, to begin with, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been made the new Minister of Magic, several of the unjust laws that were implemented over the last two years have been repealed, dozens of Voldemort's supporters have been rounded up and imprisoned, rebuilding has begun at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade, and Harry and I've secured fair trials for all prisoners." Unshed tears burned Draco's eyes as she spoke the last words…he was going to have a trial, a _fair_ trial. That was more than he'd dared hope in the past several days.

"Really?" he uttered in disbelief, praying this wasn't a dream.

"Really," she confirmed with a small smile.

"Why would you do that? Why help us after… _everything_ …" he trailed off and lowered his gaze to the floor. Hermione knelt in front of him and cupped his cheek, urging him to look at her.

"No one deserves to be thrown into prison without a trial, Malfoy… _especially_ you," she stated softly.

"How can you say that after everything I've d-done," he questioned as tears gathered in his eyes once more. She had no idea what he'd done over the last two years, no idea what he'd been forced to do…to witness and endure. He swallowed hard as she stared into his pain-filled eyes. The comfort she offered him wasn't deserved after everything he'd subjected her to. "Hell," he scoffed, "it probably won't make a difference for me" he shook his head as she stared at him with questioning eyes.

"Why would you even say that, Malfoy? You can't possibly think _this_ is what you deserve," she gestured around the small cell.

"Doesn't matter," he uttered, trying to control his trembling lower lip. "I let the Death Eater's into Hogwarts and helped murder our headmaster. They won't let me out of here after that…" he continued to shake his head, refusing to look into her warm brown eyes.

"You don't know that," she argued, trying to capture his gaze. As she became frustrated, she straddled his lap and cradled his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I _know_ you didn't choose this," she growled out as his eyes widened a fraction in shock at her vehemence. "Harry and I plan to testify on your behalf after what you did at the Manor _and_ in the Room of Requirement. Once they take your statement _and_ ours, I guarantee you won't be tossed back in here." As her words washed over him, tears fell unbidden from his eyes.

"You really think so?" he asked, searching for reassurance within her dark brown orbs.

"Yes," she stated confidently before raising her wand and muttering a quick _scurgify_ to clean his face and clothes. Between the idea of being released and feeling the soft touch of her hands against his clean skin, he broke down. His shoulders shook and his breath came in sharp ragged gasps as tears streamed down his cheeks. At the moment he didn't care that she witnessed him in such a state, he was just grateful to know she had secured him a chance at freedom…at redemption. "Oh, Malfoy," she whispered, blinking back tears of her own.

Unhesitatingly, she wrapped her slender arms around the broken man before her. Holding on as he buried his tear-stained face into the crook of her neck. His hands were still bound to the chair, but he was far from uncomfortable as she stroked the hair at the nape of his neck and promised him it would be alright.

As he calmed down and regained control of his breathing, he leaned away from her and apologized for momentarily forgetting himself. A soft smile graced her lips as she reached up and tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks. Her warm chocolate irises seemed to assess him; taking in his expressive grey eyes, pale skin, and unshaven aristocratic jaw before briefly flickering to his mouth. Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his chapped lips.

Draco was shocked still by her boldness and could feel her trepidation after his moment's hesitation. As she slowly began pulling away, he leaned forward and captured her soft lips in return. It had been too long since he'd felt the tender touch of a woman and he wasn't about to let her walk away now.

Hermiones' hands wrapped gently around the base of his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. She deepened the kiss and drew a moan from his lips as her heated core brushed against his blatant arousal.

Just as his tongue began tracing the seam of her lips, a knock sounded on the wooden door, alerting her to the hour being up and jarring them back to reality. Both of them were breathing heavily as she leaned back and smiled at him. Judging by the blush creeping up her cheeks, she hadn't planned on snogging him…let alone doing so as he sat bound to a chair in his prison cell.

"I have to go," she whispered, swallowing hard as she averted her gaze. "Your court date is Monday June first…which is two days from now," she explained shakily. He could sense her concern as she stared at the floor, clearly embarrassed by his silence. As she slowly began to stand up from his lap, he surged forward and pressed one last kiss to her slightly swollen lips.

"Thank you," he murmured earnestly as his darkened silver gaze held her brown one. A deeper flush stole over her cheeks as she nodded, fixed her hair, and stepped from his room. For the first time in nearly two years, he felt a flicker of hope and happiness rise up inside him. Only two days left until his trial, two days left eating stale bread and drinking brackish water…two days until he'd see the sun.

XXX

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, began as he read the verdict of the platinum blonde-haired man shackled to the chair before him. "After we, the Wizengamot and myself, have listened to both your private and public testimony as well as that of Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, we hereby deem your affiliation with the Death Eaters as forced. It is clear that you, at the young age of sixteen, were both under duress and unwilling when branded with the Dark Mark." Several whispers broke out among the crowd as Kingsley pressed on, his deep voice reverberating around the stone atrium.

"It is also noted that you stayed your hand when prompted to murder Albus Dumbledore and purposefully failed to identify Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, or Hermione Granger." Draco held himself together as he waited, certain that he wouldn't walk away unpunished for his actions. "However," Kingsley's low voice echoed through the silenced room, sending fear and doubt through the prisoner. "You did aid the Dark Lord's most abhorred Death Eater's into gaining entrance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he paused before continuing. "After careful consideration of all the facts and testimony, we have ruled that you will undergo two years of probation where you are to check in with an Auror once a week to have your wand monitored." Draco blinked twice, uncertain if he'd heard correctly…he was only getting probation?

"However, during the following two years, you will not be allowed to associate with your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, or reside in Malfoy Manor," Draco's eyes widened in disbelief and he nearly asked where he would go or what he would do as the Minister spoke. "During this time, you will reside with an advocate, one who has already been selected for you, and return to Hogwarts to complete your interrupted final year. At the end of which you are expected to pass all of your classes, including a muggle studies course. If you fail to comply with any of these regulations, then you will spend three years in Azkaban prison. Court adjourned."

With that, a loud buzzing of voices rose around him as everyone in the room stood and began filtering out of the large double doors. As a guard moved forward and began unchaining him, Draco sat in a state of shock…he was free, well, with regulations, but still… _free_. The guard took hold of his arm and guided him to a single door beneath the Wizengamot seats before ushering him inside.

"Your advocate will be here shortly," he stated gruffly before turning and closing the door. Draco blinked in the torchlight and noticed two chairs on either side of a small square table. He took a seat and waited approximately ten minutes before the door opened and Hermione walked in alongside a ministry employee.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy, I'm Robert Wright. Congratulations on your freedom, I'm here to see if you have any questions about the verdict," a dark-haired young man, barely older than himself or Hermione, said cheerfully as he reached out to shake Draco's hand.

"Thank you," Draco replied taking the offered hand. He was still reeling from everything Kingsley had relayed in the courtroom and honestly wasn't certain where to begin or what questions he should ask.

"Do you have any specific questions?" the man inquired.

"Umm," Draco uttered as he muddled through his thoughts.

"How about we recap the Minister's regulations and then see if he has any questions," Hermione suggested calmly, giving Draco a chance to gather his bearings.

"Alright," Mr. Wright started, "first and foremost you are required to check in once a week with an Auror to have your wand monitored for any illicit behavior, you are not to have any contact with your mother or reside in Malfoy Manor for the duration of her house arrest, which is three years…"

"Wait what?" Draco interjected. "I thought it was only for two? And what do you mean house arrest?"

"No sir, it is for the duration of three years. Her hearing was this morning and she was sentenced to three years of house arrest with minimal contact to the outside world. At the end of her time, she will receive her wand and full access to the Malfoy vaults."

"How is she supposed to buy food without access to the vaults?" Draco growled out. He was happy to note that she was free from Azkaban but without gold or a way to earn it, she would potentially starve.

"Please don't worry, Mr. Malfoy, she will have access to her own personal vaults just as you will…but not the entire Malfoy fortune," Wright explained quickly before the Malfoy heir lost his temper.

"Our own vaults?" he reiterated to clarify, knowing there was still enough in each of those to last his lifetime.

"Yes sir," he answered again before moving on. "So, where were we…ah yes, no contact of any kind with your mother, you will reside with your appointed advocate who is Miss Granger, and attend Hogwarts for your final year…which you _must_ _pass_ all of your classes, including muggle studies, to remain outside of Azkaban. Any questions?"

"You're my advocate?" Draco queried incredulously as he stared over at Hermione. He had assumed this when she walked in, but it still surprised him nonetheless.

"Yes," she replied, raising a questioning eyebrow as if to ask if he had a problem with it.

"What does that entail?" he asked, directing his gaze back to Robert Wright.

"Essentially, she will be responsible for you. Ms. Granger will escort you whenever you go out and make sure you're following your probation regulations. She will also be there to protect you from any potential attacks, threats, or attempts to force you into breaking your parole. Ms. Granger will be your emergency contact as well as ours if we need you for anything specific. Anything else?" he questioned cheerfully.

"Umm, well," Draco hesitated as he bit his lip. "I'm not asking because I necessarily care, but I was curious if my father has had his hearing yet? To be honest, I'm hoping he won't be leaving Azkaban anytime soon after everything that's happened over the last two years," he added quickly so there wasn't concern over his loyalties. The last thing he needed was to be sent back less than an hour after he'd been released from prison. He meant what he'd said, he hoped his father would rot behind bars after allowing…well… _everything_.

"Your father did have his trial this morning, Mr. Malfoy," Robert uttered cautiously as he nervously shuffled his paperwork and cleared his throat. "Well…ummm…well…"

"Malfoy," Hermione cut in when it was apparent the young employee was afraid to relay the information. His guarded grey eyes flickered to hers, awaiting an answer that Robert Wright clearly couldn't provide. "Your father…" she paused and took a breath to gather her nerve. "Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to life in Azkaban upon receiving the Dementor's kiss," she rushed out in anticipation of his outburst…but it never came. Instead, he simply sat there absorbing the news with an unreadable expression.

"Good," he stated flatly, surprising both Hermione and Robert.

"Malfoy?" she hesitated to ask if he was alright.

"I mean it, Granger," he claimed, refocusing on her. "I'm glad he's getting what he deserves rather than paying his way out of it like he did in the first war. After everything he did to my mother and I…" he trailed off and shook his head. They sat in wrapped silence for a few moments before the ministry employee thanked them for their time and left. Hermione stood waiting for Draco by the door as he slowly rose and pushed in his chair.

"Are you ready?" she tentatively inquired. He paused a few feet from her and stared warily at the door, obviously nervous about heading out through the crowd. "Don't worry, the ministry has issued any and all freed prisoners a portkey to avoid angry protestors and nosy reporters. We'll collect ours from the guard outside and head home, okay?" Draco simply nodded in understanding as his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Oh, wait," he said suddenly as she opened the door. "How am I supposed to get my stuff if I'm not allowed at the Manor?"

"An Auror escorted Harry to your mother's shortly after your verdict was read," Hermione answered. "Everything will be gathered and brought to Grimmauld Place until I find us a suitable new residence." He nodded in response before following her through the door and over to where the guard was waiting for them. The burly man asked Hermione where they were headed before turning the single shoestring he held into a portkey.

As the tattered lace began to glow blue, Hermione handed him one end before they were quickly whisked away in a blur of colors.

They landed in a crumpled heap on the front steps of number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Each of them grumbling slightly as they stood and straightened their wind-whipped clothes. Draco's cool grey eyes took in the ancient house of Black as Hermione stepped forward and led him into the darkened entrance hall.

Much had changed in the year that they'd been on the run. Ever since Harry had given Kreacher Regulus's locket, the elf had begun cleaning and repairing much of the dilapidated home. Before the Golden Trio broke into the Ministry, he'd completely overhauled the kitchen and dining room. Once Harry and Hermione had returned after the final battle, they'd found nearly every room spotless and resembling that of their former glory.

In the last month, while Hermione worked closely with the Ministry officials to overturn unjust laws and guarantee fair trials for the prisoners, Harry had decided to rearrange the house to be more welcoming to others…and to distract himself from the grief of war.

On the ground floor, he'd turned the formal dining room into a large living room complete with comfortable couches and area rugs pulled from hidden corners of the house and added torches to illuminate the darkened halls once the portrait of Walburga Black was removed. He claimed his godfather's bedroom and spent several days determining what to keep and what to get rid of before adding his own pictures and personal items to the fray. Light was added throughout the house and Harry requested Ginny's help in deciding what else should be done before she moved in.

The two of them had resumed their relationship within a few days following the final battle. They were practically inseparable as they grieved over the loss of their loved ones, helped rebuild Hogwarts, attended Ministry trials, and redecorated Grimmauld Place. Hermione suspected they kept busy in order to drive the nightmares away as they tried to handle what life was like after the war.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, did not pursue a relationship as everyone had expected. The passionate kiss they'd shared during the battle wasn't enough to build on after he lost his brother. In fact, they both realized it was best to remain friends as they figured out their lives…well, Ronald had agreed with Hermione's assessment shortly after burying Fred, though it was obvious to most he still hoped she'd change her mind.

However, once Hermione began fighting for fair trials for all prisoners, her relationship with the Weasley's became strained. They were angry at her insistence that some of the Death Eaters were innocent and didn't deserve life sentences because of working under duress. Harry had broken up several arguments between her and Ron whenever the particular topic of Malfoy came up.

She wasn't sure when it had happened but over the course of her sixth year, she'd begun watching the blonde and knew something was wrong as he'd grown gaunt and slender. Her instincts had told her that he wasn't doing anything by choice and after Harry had described the night upon the Astronomy Tower, she was certain of it.

The day she'd gained clearance to visit him in Azkaban, she had paced the length of Grimmauld Place's front entrance, wringing her hands until the time came for her to portkey to the North Sea. The prison was cold and desolate as it loomed over the rocky shores. Thankfully, the Dementors had been removed and Aurors were placed as the new prison guards.

It took well over thirty minutes to be processed and granted access to his cell…most of which was her arguing with the warden over being given privacy when conversing with Draco. She figured if Malfoy was anything like the arrogant boy she'd remembered, he likely wouldn't speak freely in front of the Aurors. However, she had never expected to see him so broken or resigned to the fate of spending his lifetime rotting away behind bars.

Hermione wasn't pleased by the idea of having him bound to a chair for their conversation, but she understood the wardens' concerns and conceded. She was openly disgusted by the sight of the waste pail and tattered bedroll they'd left for him to use. Not to mention the state in which they'd left _him_ …she couldn't believe that blood and soot still adorned his body after weeks of incarceration.

Initially, she thought they'd taken her to the wrong cell before she'd caught sight of his silver gaze and pale blonde hair. His face was dirty, gaunt, and unshaven while his clothes were caked with dirt and what seemed to be debris. Anger simmered in her blood as she realized that was how prisoners were treated before they were even condemned.

After spending several minutes contemplating how to address the conditions with Kingsley, she turned her focus to Draco and noticed the fear radiating through his body. She wondered once more what he'd been subjected to in prison or during the war that would make him fear her. Shaking her head, she intended to spend the rest of their time filling him in on the changes that were being made in the Wizarding World. She'd never expected to hold him as he sobbed or reassure his fears as the mask he generally wore slipped and let her in.

The curly-haired brunette had especially never planned on claiming his lips and snogging him senseless in a feeble attempt to remind him of his worth.

Shortly after she left his cell, Hermione was found screaming at Kingsley in his office over the treatment of the prisoners. She demanded they review their policies regarding Azkaban and update the way in which everyone was treated…no matter their crimes.

By the time Malfoy's trial rolled around she had convinced Kingsley to reconsider the accommodations of prisoner cells, been approved to be Draco's advocate, and set up a plan to help him adjust to life when he was released. The two of them made their way into the living room where a brown parcel sat waiting for them on the table. Hermione had been informed during the advocacy meeting with Kingsley that if Malfoy were entrusted to her care that she would receive a package containing his confiscated items they'd stripped him of upon being arrested.

Draco followed closely behind Hermione as he took in the torchlit halls, ornate furniture, and outdated wallpaper lining the walls. The sitting room held three couches and two oversized armchairs bordering a plush area rug while facing a large stone fireplace. He watched as the brunette witch settled onto the center couch and reached for the little brown box before her.

Uncertain as to what he should do, he stood awkwardly by the coffee table until she gestured for him to take a seat next to her…surprised that he'd waited in the first place. He glanced around the room once more before looking back at the witch beside him, watching as she tore open the package.

"Where are we?" he inquired quietly, still uncertain of how things were to be between them.

"Grimmauld Place," she answered easily before he shot her a look of annoyance. "We are in Borough of Islington, London, a muggle neighborhood just a few blocks away from King's Cross Station. The house was once owned by Sirius Black, your mother's cousin, and is hidden by a Fidelius charm, unplottable, and currently owned by Harry. We'll only be here for a little while; I plan to find an affordable flat, so we won't be underfoot once Ginny and Harry marry."

"They're getting married?" Draco was surprised that Potter was willing to settle down so young. He'd heard of Grimmauld Place once before from his aunt when she had screamed upon learning the inheritance had been passed onto The-Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone within arm's reach had scattered in hopes of escaping her wrath. He honestly hadn't expected for Potter to open his doors to him after everything that'd happened between them over the years.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they eloped tomorrow. He and Ginny have been inseparable for weeks and it's incredibly nauseating to continuously walk in on," she affirmed candidly. "I think it'll be best if we find somewhere else to live so they can have their own space." Draco nodded in understanding as he stared down at his hands. He was afraid his mind was playing tricks on him and that this was nothing more than a dream where soon he'd awaken in his darkened cell…alone.

"Here," Hermione said, pulling him from his fears and causing his eyes to flicker up to her. She was holding the brown package out towards him with a genuine small smile gracing her lips. Gingerly, he reached out and took the box from her hands, confused beyond reason until she spoke, "This should be everything they confiscated from you upon your arrest." She worried her lip as he looked down at the contents and sighed in relief when a look of appreciation stole over his face.

Sitting at the top of the small pile of items was the hawthorn wand Harry had returned to him shortly after the battle, before he'd been escorted to Azkaban bound in chains. Trembling slightly, he reached inside and gently grasped the wooden handle. The familiar rush of magic warmed his core as his wand recognized him and emitted a handful of sparks. Smiling for the first time in what felt like years, he glanced up and met Hermione's warm chocolate gaze. Words stuck in his throat as he tried to think of how to properly thank her for freeing him from prison and giving him a second chance. A chance not only to learn from his past mistakes but to make amends for everything he'd done, in particular to her.

But before either of them could speak, Harry's silver stag pranced into the room and informed Hermione that Draco's things were waiting for him in the small bedroom on the third floor and that he would be home later that evening after court adjourned. With that, the Patronus faded and Hermione stood, ushering Draco to follow her up the narrow staircase and to his temporary living quarters. She explained her room was through the door to the left and that the bathroom was on the right before leaving him to settle in.

The room was sparsely furnished with a single full-sized bed, nightstand, and chest of drawers. He was pleased to see a window looking out over the back gardens, allowing sunlight to filter in and bounce off the cream-colored walls. It wasn't much, but it was warm and inviting. Without bothering to ask, he placed the small box next to his old school trunk and began sifting through the contents upon his bed. Nearly everything from his room had been stuffed inside, including his tomes for school, a photograph of his mother holding him as a young child, the watch his grandfather had willed him, and a few other trinkets he'd kept around the mantel of his fireplace. Deciding to wait to finish itemizing his personal belongings, he pulled out a set of clean clothes before rushing back out of the door and into the bathroom.

Even though Hermione had magically cleaned his skin and clothes two days prior, he still felt filthy and decided to take a scalding hot shower to scrub away the residual dirt and grime. He wasn't certain how long he'd stayed beneath the pulsing spray, but he took his time to thoroughly scrub his entire body until the water ran clear…then once more for good measure. When he finally stepped into a pair of clean boxers and trousers, he felt renewed.

However, after catching a glance of his unkempt appearance in the mirror he flicked his wand and summoned the magical razor his mother had gifted him two Christmases before. He gave it explicit instructions and watched as the shaver flew around him, trimming his hair and removing the patchy beard he'd managed to grow in the last four weeks.

As the magical blades maneuvered their way around his head, he couldn't help but catch sight of the scars peeking over his shoulders. He didn't need to turn to recall the multitude of intersecting lines that littered his back, stopping just above his waistline. Careful to keep still, he blinked away the memories of his punishments and concentrated on taking steady even breaths, reminding himself all the while that he was free and no longer at the mercy of the Dark Lord.

Once the razor ceased it's trimming, it shook the hairs from between its blades and settled onto the sink beside his toothbrush. Malfoy's grey eyes roved over his reflection in the mirror, assessing his short hair and clean-shaven jaw. He tried not to stare at his near emaciated features where dark bruising lingered under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from weeks of malnutrition and two years of living in fear beneath the Dark Lord's hand. Instead, he took yet another deep breath and tried to push the horrific memories from his mind as he turned away from the mirror.

Feeling a little more like himself, Draco tossed the black suit he'd worn for over a month into the bin before stepping from the bathroom clad in black slacks and a simple white button-down. He was debating whether or not he should return to his room when shouts echoed up the staircase.

"I can't believe you advocated for that slimy git," Ron Weasley's voice roared. "I get why you testified on his behalf even though I disagreed with you, but to advocate and take him on for the next two years..." he stated exasperatedly. "Have you gone _completely_ mental? Or have you forgotten the _years_ of torment he inflicted upon you?"

"It isn't your decision, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "He didn't deserve to be in Azkaban, he was just a child when Voldemort threatened him into submission…"

"We were children too, dammit," he yelled back, "but you didn't see either of us cowering to the will of a madman…"

"We didn't have one living in our house and threatening to kill our parents either," she hissed.

"So what? Because he lived with You-Know-Who, you've decided to take pity on him and give up the next two years of your life to ensure he doesn't land himself back into a cell alongside his brethren." Draco's gut twisted at the idea of Hermione only taking him in because she pitied what his life had become.

"I'm not doing this because of pity…Malfoy doesn't deserve prison and I wasn't about to let him be taken in by some family who would abuse him for his part in the war," she spat.

"They can't hurt him, the oaths you take in order to be an advocate keep you from doing so," Ron argued. "I read the damn pamphlet they released, and I know better…"

"They keep you from cursing or physically harming your parolee, yes, but that doesn't mean they have to treat them as humans either. There are plenty of emotional and mental ways in which they could be harmed."

"I don't care," the Weasel snapped. "It's no less than he deserves, in my opinion, and I don't plan to hang around while you attempt to make him a better man."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that as long as he's around don't expect to see me."

"You can't mean that," she nearly cried in disbelief.

"I mean it…as long as he's living with you, you and I are done, 'Mione." Draco waited with bated breath as silence engulfed them. He couldn't help but wonder if she would back out of being his advocate to appease the redheaded ponce.

"I cannot believe…" Hermione began in a strained voice, "that after _all this time_ you're still _nothing_ but a self-centered prat, Ronald Weasley. How dare you show up here and demand I chuck Malfoy out because _you feel_ he doesn't deserve a chance at redemption. Because _you feel_ he should be rotting away in a small stone cell as if he was personally at fault for Fred's death…"

"Don't you _dare_ bring up my brother," Ron growled. "I have more than one reason to hate Malfoy and…"

"I _wasn't_ done," she interrupted, raising her voice several octaves in order to speak over him. "I will not give up my advocacy because of your petty resentment and unearned accusations. We fought this war for equality among _all_ witches and wizards…that includes those who fought against us."

"Then I guess I'll see you in two years, Hermione," he stated aggressively.

"Seriously…" she demanded before he disapparated with a pop. Hermione groaned aloud and ran her hands through her hair as she fought the urge to follow Ron and hex him into understanding. Instead, she exhaled sharply and turned to head up the stairs to check on Draco. As she rounded the banister, she found him freshly showered and standing in clean clothes with his eyes trained on the floor. "I take it you overheard that…"

"Yes," he professed before glancing up at her. "Granger, I don't want to come between you and your friends. I'm certain it'd be easier to…"

"No, Malfoy," she declared, cutting him off before he could suggest leaving. "Even if I gave up my advocacy, my issues with the Weasley's would not be resolved. Their grief has driven a wedge between us that will take months if not years to restore."

"Why? I thought they adored you…"

"They did…until I started attending meetings at the Ministry to ensure fair trials for all those imprisoned," she admitted with a sad smile as his brows furrowed deeper in confusion. "Since losing Fred…" she paused as her eyes momentarily misted, "they haven't been the same. I mean it's understandable and expected, but since the final battle all they've wanted to see is each and every dark witch or wizard punished. They even blame me for persuading Harry into demanding fair trials…" she chuckled mirthlessly, "as if he doesn't have a brain for himself. They blame me entirely for freeing Death Eaters and their supporters alike. I mean after what happened to Sirius and you, one would think they'd understand not _everyone_ deserved to be in that hell hole," she scoffed. "They simply can't see past their grief…"

"Potter helped in obtaining fair trials?" Draco quired, though he vaguely recalled her making the same claim the day she'd visited him in his cell.

"Of course, he did," Hermione exclaimed with a look that clearly indicated he should have known that. But upon realizing he was still confused she sighed, "Look, Harry's godfather was imprisoned for twelve years for a crime he never committed. We both knew you'd been branded against your will and we figured others may have been in similar situations. It's why we pushed so hard for the trials…no one deserves to be imprisoned without being given the chance to explain their side."

"Oh…" was all Draco could muster as he mulled over everything she'd said. He was surprised to find that Potter had worked so hard to free those unjustly imprisoned, but it made sense for a Gryffindor to always do the right thing.

"Anyways, before you ask again, no, I will not hand you back to the Ministry for someone else to take custody of you. Not only did I jump through dozens of hoops to get you here but sending you back could be worse. You could be placed with a wretched family that neglected their duties or they'd send you to Azkaban for your entire probation if no one ever stepped up. I'm not risking it…"

"Why?" Draco wondered aloud, catching her off guard.

"What do you mean ' _why'_? I've already explained that you didn't deserve…" she began before he interrupted again.

"No, I don't mean why did you secure me a fair trial. I want to know why you bothered advocating for me at all? After everything I've done to you, the names I've called you…why bother helping me?" his silver eyes held her gaze as she stared at him with her mouth slightly ajar, clearly uncertain as to how to respond.

"Because…" she began after snapping her mouth shut, "you deserve a chance to start over without someone mistreating you or telling you who you should be." He didn't say anything as he searched her rich brown orbs for something more…some hidden reason that she wasn't sharing or maybe that she wasn't ready to divulge. If he were honest, he was hoping that the kiss had something to do with it, but he doubted that would be the case.

"Thank you," he murmured softly after diverting his gaze.

"You're welcome, now," she stated evenly before taking a short breath, "are you hungry?" He simply shrugged his shoulders in response, unwilling to admit he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks…months really because while living with the Dark Lord, he was simply too afraid to take regular meals. "Malfoy, you don't need to deny yourself sustenance. In this house we eat when we're hungry, sometimes that's together but, usually, it's at random. I understand how odd it can be to eat at leisure after the last year we've had, but I truly don't wish for you to wait until offered something. Besides, I doubt they had time to feed you lunch today before your trial…"

"We weren't really fed regularly in Azkaban…" he replied softly, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes at his statement. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise before a frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Why am I not surprised," she shook her head in irritation and murmured, "and they call _muggles_ barbaric." With another shake of her head and an exasperated sigh, she asked. "Right then, when did you last eat? This morning?"

"I think it was some time yesterday, late evening maybe…I'm honestly not sure," he admitted, judging by how early they'd woken him this morning for the trial he could only assume it was an evening meal. "Without a window, it was difficult to tell the time of day."

"Then you're definitely hungry," she stated in a matter of fact tone. "I doubt you'll eat much after weeks of little food, how about we have soup or stew as it's easy on the stomach?" If she hadn't been paying attention, she would have missed the small grimace he gave at the mention of soup for supper.

"Whatever you wish."

"Don't do that," she chastised, causing his eyes to shoot up to hers in confusion. "I saw you make a face, if you don't like something then just say so."

"It's not that I don't _like_ soup," he tried to explain as he bit his lower lip and glanced around the hall, knowing she'd begin peppering him with questions if he didn't. "It's just…well…" he sighed before looking back at her, "it's all I've had to eat since the day of the final battle."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she quickly replied as he averted his gaze to the papered wall behind her. "What would you like then? Kreacher can make just about anything, unfortunately, I'm not a very good cook, but I am learning."

"I find it hard to believe Hermione Granger isn't good at something," he supplied with a small smile. "I'm certain you're cooking is quite delicious and you're simply being too hard on yourself." The brunette witch blushed at his frankness and glanced to the floor before allowing her brown eyes to flicker back up to his soft grey.

"Well, you can just ask Harry when he arrives home for dinner," she lightly argued, enjoying the normalcy of their debate, "he'll tell you, I'm a rubbish cook."

"I'm certain it's better than cold soup with stale bread," he uttered in a low voice, recalling all he'd eaten for over four weeks. The reality of his situation came crashing back and Hermione paled at the thought of how truly terrible Azkaban was.

"Then how about we have something you love," she suggested. "What have you missed eating the most?"

"Honestly?" he asked, wary of whether or not she was serious. When she nodded vigorously, he sighed and continued, "I would love a braised roast with some potatoes."

"I think we can manage that," she declared as her lips quirked up into a smile and her eyes sparkled in the lamplight. Draco's breath caught as her entire being seemed to radiate with happiness over being able to feed him something he'd like, or better yet ease some of his suffering. He bit back a smile and simply watched as she called out, "Kreacher!"

"Miss Minnie called," Kreacher, the ancient house-elf, croaked as he appeared with a crack.

"Yes, Malfoy and I were discussing supper and he was hoping we could have some braised roast with potatoes. Would you be willing to make some?" she questioned genially. Draco had never seen someone treat a house-elf with such kindness and blinked in surprise as the wrinkled creature turned its beady eyes on him.

"Kreacher is most willing to make whatever Master Malfoy would like as he is most honored to serve the last heir to the noble and ancient House of Black."

" _Do not_ call me that," Draco instantly replied in a near growl, causing both Hermione and Kreacher to look at him in astonishment. "I am not your master; Potter is and you dishonor him by calling me such. Do not do so again," he stated vehemently as he realized how uncomfortable being in control of another's life made him feel.

"Kreacher is sorry to have offended the young sir," the elf replied with wide eyes. "Kreacher will not do so again," with that, he bowed and disapparated with a crack.

"Malfoy…"

"I'm sorry, Granger, but I don't wish to be called anyone's master," he supplied as he stared pointedly down at the threadbare carpet, her eyes softened in understanding and she nodded without saying anything more.

After that, Hermione proceeded to give him a tour of the house, informing him that he was allowed to roam anywhere he pleased, as long as it wasn't into Harry's room…idly, he noted that she did not ban him from her own. From there, they made their way back down into the living room with a few books to read while sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits until supper was ready. Just as they took their seats at the table, the floo roared to life and Harry stepped through.

Dusting off the soot from his clothes, he moved into the kitchen and took a seat across from Hermione. "Sorry I'm late, Nott Senior's trial took longer than expected."

"You're fine, Harry, we just sat down," Hermione explained as Draco sat quietly beside her. He was unsure of how The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice would react to having his school nemesis in his home and at his table.

"It smells delicious," Harry declared as he breathed in the enticing aromas before pausing. "You didn't cook this, right?" he inquired as he looked at the dishes on the table. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes before turning to Draco.

"See, I told you that I was a rubbish cook," she chortled before answering Harry's query. "No, Harry, Kreacher made supper this evening… _alone_."

"You're not _rubbish_ …" the black-haired wizard muttered sheepishly. "You just haven't quite honed your skillset yet…"

"Har har," she snarked as Draco's eyes widened. "You meant rubbish and I know it," she laughed and tossed a roll at her oldest friend.

"Hey, I still eat your food," Harry insisted, "no matter _how it tastes_ …or have you forgotten about the toadstool soup you made this past fall?" Hermione's eyes widened and she flushed a deep crimson as Draco's lip curled in disgust. "Even though that's the _worst_ thing I've ever eaten, and may I remind you I've had Hagrid's rock cakes," he chortled as Hermione and Draco reluctantly smiled, "it was still edible...unlike the disastrous concoctions Ron attempted to feed us. Thank Merlin we were near that farm and were able to collect a few eggs…" he laughed a bit more until he realized the smiles had slipped from the others' faces and their eyes were intently focused on the food.

The uncomfortable feeling of guilt washed over Draco at the reminder that Hermione had distanced herself from the red-haired family and one of her closest friends to save him from spending the next few years in Azkaban. As his mind swirled with reasons he should leave, he felt Hermione place a reassuring hand on his right forearm. His head snapped up in surprise and his eyes met her knowing brown irises. She simply shook her head once and he knew not to bother broaching the topic again.

"What happened?" Harry inquired as he watched the exchange between them.

"Nothing important," Hermione uttered calmly as she resumed eating her roast.

"Save that for someone who _doesn't_ know you, 'Mione," Harry growled. "What'd Ron do this time?" he asked firmly as she clenched her jaw and chanced a glance at Draco. She noticed how his shoulders were slumped and full of tension as he stared at his food with a remorseful expression.

"He stopped by a few hours ago and gave me an ultimatum which I refused," she stated simply, knowing Harry wouldn't let it go.

"What was it this time?"

"It doesn't matter, Harry..."

"It does matter, what's the prat said _now_?" Hermione pursed her lips and leveled her green-eyed friend with a look that clearly informed him it was none of his business as she'd already handled it.

"He told her that if she didn't send me back, he would have nothing to do with her until my probation was up and I was gone," Draco supplied quietly, even though Hermione shot him a glare. "When she refused, he said he'd see her in two years and disapparated." Harry sighed and shook his head as he set down his fork and grasped her hand.

"You know he didn't mean it. He's just angry and hurt…give him some time," Harry nearly pleaded. Draco internally rolled his eyes at how the Chosen One simply didn't understand that Weasley had no excuse to treat Hermione that way. Grief or not, no true friend would give someone an ultimatum to go against everything they believed in.

"No, Harry, he did mean it," she articulated evenly as she gently pulled her hand from his. "He's still furious with me for refusing to be his witch; as if I'd be with him after _everything_ he pulled in our sixth year…or after he ran out on us last fall," she scoffed and shook her head. Draco wasn't surprised to hear that after the Weasel had ostracized Granger for a year while dating Lavender Brown that she would no longer return his affections. In fact, knowing that she was unwilling to compromise nearly made him smile…that is until he recalled how he'd treated her for the better part of six years. "And, Harry," she continued, bringing Draco out of his thoughts, "I know he's still grieving Fred, but that doesn't give him the right to dictate my life."

"True," Harry nodded, clearly unsure of what else to say. Instead of delving further into an uncomfortable conversation, he changed topics as he resumed eating. "Did you find everything you needed in your room, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he replied before clearing his throat, "thank you for picking it up for me. H-how was…" he trailed off, unsure if he was allowed to inquire about his mother or if that was a breach of his probation.

"She's good," Harry began, understanding the unasked question. "A little thinner than usual, like yourself, but I think given a few weeks she'll be back to normal. She wasn't allowed to write you a note, but I offered to pass along a message for her." He watched as the blondes' eyes widened and lit with a small flicker of happiness. "Naturally, she sends her love, but she also wanted me to inform you that the Greengrass family has broken your betrothal contract. Something in some clause or another dictated you weren't allowed to be incarcerated or some rubbish," Harry relayed as Hermione glanced at Draco, trying her best to gauge his reaction.

"Good, I wasn't looking forward to being forced into a marriage with Astoria as it was."

"Yes, well, she also told me to tell you that if you wed before her three years of house arrest were up that she'll invoke the right to name your firstborn and promises it'll be something horrid such as Barnabus," Harry chuckled as Draco's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline at his mother's threat. How she could possibly think someone would want to marry a disgraced ex-Death Eater was beyond him. At that thought, the memory of Hermione kissing him in his prison cell flitted into his mind and he had to squash it down, reminding himself she'd only done so because he'd been upset.

"I doubt that'll be an issue," he muttered evasively as he averted his eyes, refusing to look at the curly-haired witch beside him.

"Well, nonetheless she wanted me to let you know," Harry continued. "Outside of that she simply asked that you take care of yourself and not waste the chance you've been offered at absolution." Silence hung in the air between them as Harry finished and tears welled in Draco's silver eyes.

"Thanks, Potter," he murmured as he blinked rapidly and resumed eating. Knowing his mother was going to be alright helped ease the concern he'd had for her since his arrest. He finished his meal in silence as the other two discussed the trials from court. The crimes of Nott Senior, Yaxley, and Macnair were brutal and well-known, so it came as no surprise that each had been sentenced to the Dementor's kiss. The details eradicated the cheerful atmosphere and left each of them quietly recalling various aspects of the war. As dinner finished, they each decided to retire for the evening to either sort through their own pain or to sleep…Draco wasn't sure.

After changing into his pajamas and slipping into bed he gripped his wand and erected a silencing spell so the others wouldn't hear his screams from the nightmares which plagued him. Little did he know that both Harry and Hermione did the same each night to try and save the other from their pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter the amazingly talented JK Rowling does…I just enjoy playing with her characters.
> 
> **I know, I know I'm supposed to be working on the others but I just couldn't help myself. The scene in this chapter was the reason this entire story was made...I couldn't help but share it with you. I appreciate everyone's kind words and constructive reviews...though I apologize for any tears or sadness felt during this chapter. Chapter three probably won't be up for a few weeks, but I hope it doesn't dissuade anyone from following. Please review!

**Chapter 2:**

The rest of the week flew by as Draco settled into a new routine with Hermione and Harry. Each of them usually woke early, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast in order to be ready for a day without much to do. The blonde often found himself reading a few chapters beside Hermione, resting, or playing with the monstrous orange cat she called Crookshanks; not that he did so in front of the others as he still had some sort of a reputation to maintain.

Everything was simply a distraction to keep his mind occupied until Harry returned in the evenings from either the Weasley's or court with news from the trials he'd witnessed. It felt odd to converse with his one-time nemesis, so their discussions often revolved around judiciary proceedings and speculations regarding the latest _Prophet_ articles, many of which involved Draco or the Golden Trio. At night, once the standard query ran its course and supper was complete, the three of them would retire to their own rooms, erect strong silencing charms, and wrestle with their personal demons through nightmares. Hours later they'd awaken drenched in cold sweats while screaming out in terror; though none sought solace in one another and often awaited dawn to start the cycle all over again.

Ginny's absence from the house was notable but neither Draco nor Hermione broached the topic with Harry as the weekend inevitably approached. They assumed she needed time to accept Malfoys' parole and would eventually come around…hopefully, before they moved.

Hermione no longer felt compelled to attend the trials after Draco had been freed and alternated spending her time perusing the Black family library, taking cooking lessons from Kreacher, and knitting quietly by the hearth before supper. She had even surprised Draco on the evening of his birthday with a small personal homemade cake and broom servicing kit…something she figured had been left behind at the Manor.

Not having expected to receive anything, Draco flushed and muttered an honest 'Thank you' before trying a bit of the chocolate cake…forcing a smile as it crumbled under his fork, clearly dry from being overbaked. Feeling indebted to her for all the effort she had put into it, he took a bite and did his best not to wince as he tasted the sugar granules in the buttercream icing. The overall flavors were good and though it wasn't perfect, the gesture meant more to him than nearly any meal he'd had since fifth year. Even if he hadn't felt grateful for the dessert, the way in which she beamed at him as he took a second forkful would keep his tongue in check and guarantee that the dry little cake would be finished that night.

As the sun crept over the horizon early Saturday morning, Draco laid wide awake in his bed dreading the day as he listened to Hermione's door open and close. She'd owl'd the Headmistress of Hogwarts earlier in the week, requesting their new school booklists in advance so they'd have time to brush up on the material before heading back in September.

Draco was honestly surprised that Headmistress McGonagall had not only replied but included a list of texts he would need in order to pass his Muggle Studies course.

After taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and stood from the bed to ready for the day. Having showered earlier that morning, after being awoken once again by night terrors, he simply dressed quickly in his crisp black suit and combed his hair. Moving downstairs for breakfast, he hung his jacket over the chair, picked up the morning paper, and began to read as Kreacher bustled around the kitchen, preparing an assortment of food. He tried not to worry over what could happen on their trip to the Alley and simply focused on the article discussing new registration regulations for werewolves while attempting to avoid any supposed 'news' about himself, Hermione, or Harry.

Barely twenty minutes had passed before Hermione swept into the kitchen in a sleeveless lightweight white summer A-line dress patterned with pale blue flowers. The top hugged her curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts, before leading to a flared skirt that brushed the top of her calves. As Draco stared at the vision she made with loose ringlets falling over her shoulders, his mouth ran dry. It'd been a week since she'd kissed him in his prison cell, and though he wanted nothing more than to snog her senseless she seemed to make a point of not bringing it up…so following her lead, he left it alone.

He chalked the entire thing up to a moment born from desperation and pity, knowing all the while she'd never settle for someone as broken as him. Though her appearance left him breathless and gave the impression that she was no longer suffering but healed from the anguish of war, Draco could see the cracks in her façade. Dark circles played beneath her red-rimmed eyes, alluding to her sleepless nights and probable nightmares, and though a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips and danced in her eyes, it was marred by a lingering sadness only those who'd seen war would recognize.

"Good morning," she spoke cheerfully as she took the seat across from him and proceeded to pour a strong cup of tea. "Are you ready to head to Diagon Alley after breakfast?"

"Yes," he replied a little stiffly, causing her to pause in stirring in a splash of milk and sugar as Kreacher shuffled over with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. They'd briefly argued the point on him accompanying her at dinner before he conceded to her points…but it didn't make the situation any less stressful for him.

"I understand why you're wary to head into town, but I promise we'll only stay as long as you're comfortable," she reassured him as she took a few bites of food. "Besides, I've preordered nearly everything I could so we won't have to linger about in the busier shops."

"I thought we were only going to Flourish and Blotts today," he inquired as his dread started to give way to panic at being out in public for longer than necessary so soon after his trial.

"Well, I figured we would head to Gringotts first, as I'm certain you'll need money to purchase your school things, then I need to head to the Magical Menagerie for some food for Crooks, then there's the apothecary, Madam Malkin's, and of course the Quality Quidditch Supplies if you'd like…"

"That's really not necessary," Draco interrupted as he wanted to get in and out of the Alley as quickly as possible. He knew by the articles listed in _The Prophet_ that his presence would likely cause a stir, as many people didn't believe he deserved parole.

"Malfoy," Hermione began as she reached across the table and took hold of his hand, "as I explained last night, we're going to have to face the public sooner or later. I know Harry and I are guilty of hiding here as well, but it's not going to stop them from writing about you or the role you were forced into in this war."

"That's easy for you to say," he muttered, "most of the articles praise you and Potter for saving our world…"

"Yet Rita Skeeter still questions my sanity for advocating for you," she replied with a self-deprecating smile as he withdrew his hand. "Look, all you can do is live your life as you see fit and ignore the slander they write because it's _always_ going to be there. What matters is what you think of yourself," she argued as he scoffed and stared into his teacup. "Malfoy, the best piece of advice I can offer you is something I overheard during our third year at Hogwarts; if you're holding out for universal popularity…or acceptance, then you'll be trapped here for a _very_ long time. It's better that we take this first step together and get it over with than hide away for the next two years.

"Because if I'm being honest, it's not going to matter if you head out today or six months from now…they'll _still_ write about it," she stated factually as his mercurial gaze lifted to hers. "They're going to write about you, me, Harry, and this war for the next few _years_ …we can't escape it. So far, you're the _only_ Death Eater they've set free and unfortunately, they're all waiting for you to fail," fear flashed in Draco's eyes at the mere idea of being sent back to Azkaban and losing his parole. "So, you know what we're going to do?" she paused and waited for him to shake his head. "We're going to show them that you aren't the Death Eater _The Prophet_ has painted you as and each time you step out of this house they'll see me by your side as you show them the man you can be…the man you _want_ to be."

"Granger, I-I appreciate your faith in me…" he began, though he had no idea where it stemmed from as she was unaware of what had happened while the Dark Lord resided in his home. "But I honestly don't know how to be anymore…everything I was raised to believe was a lie and I'm not sure where to go from here."

"Then it's a good thing you have the time to figure it out, Draco," his eyes widened slightly at hearing his given name slip from her lips, but he couldn't bring himself to speak as she gave him an encouraging smile before turning back to her food.

Hermione refused to tell him how to live his life as she'd been serious when she'd told him on Monday that he deserved a chance to start over and determine who he wanted to be on his own. She was simply there to help keep him from slipping and ending up back in that tiny cell with the threadbare blanket and waste bucket in the corner. Thinking back to the stone room she'd found him in a week prior, brought the heated kiss they'd shared to the forefront of her mind. Flushing slightly at the memory of his lips pressed desperately to her own, she quickly took a sip of tea before finishing her toast.

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how he felt about their shared moment…or if he had felt anything at all. She knew her initial reasoning behind the kiss was to remind him that someone cared whether he lived or died in that cell, but after holding him as he broke down in tears and feeling the depth of his passion, she couldn't help but wonder if there could ever be more between them. However, she once again reminded herself that he needed time to figure out who he was and what he wanted out of life…and that couldn't happen if she tried to mold him into who _she_ thought he could be. Deciding once again not to bring it up, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and picked up the paper to read the main article on werewolf regulations.

The pair finished their breakfast while discussing the new Ministry mandate to ascertain the number of werewolves now living in England after the war. Hermione felt it was an invasion of privacy on the wolves' behalf while Draco sided with the Ministry. He claimed that Greyback had been given too much freedom by the Dark Lord and spent each full moon turning at least two people into beasts that should be regulated now that the war was over. Their argument continued as they banished their plates to the sink, gathered what few things they needed for shopping, and headed out the door.

As it was still fairly early when they arrived, Diagon Alley wasn't as crowded as either of them had expected. There were still several witches and wizards milling about shopping for various items or working in small groups to rebuild storefronts that had been destroyed during the war, but for the most part, they were left alone. The goblins of Gringotts weren't pleased to see Hermione any more than they were to see the Malfoy heir, and therefore sent two guards to watch over them alongside the clerk as they withdrew from their vaults.

Having not seen the damage caused by their escape from two months prior, Hermione flushed a brilliant shade of red when she noted the piles of rubble surrounding the lowest vaults. It seemed that in the time since the final battle, the goblins had managed to rebuild the main bank, as well as the bridge leading through the Thief's Downfall, that they conveniently left on as the pair hurtled through the overpass. However, they'd yet to finish repairing the damage inflicted upon the columns which supported the oldest repositories in the Wizarding World.

She had the grace to look ashamed as Draco made his way to his personal vault and ignored the way in which the goblins sneered or offhandedly remarked that if it weren't for her helping defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that she would be forever barred from their establishment. The mounds of gold situated in the Malfoy heirs' depository weren't surprising to her after having visited the Lestrange's vault, but she couldn't help noticing how Draco watched her for a reaction. Whether he was wondering if it would change her opinion of him or not, she didn't care…she just wanted to leave before the goblins decided to lock her inside as retribution for the damage she'd inflicted.

Finally, free from the watchful gazes of the guards, Hermione and Draco made their way down Diagon Alley and to the Magical Menagerie where they purchased a variety of goodies for Crookshanks. And when she slipped their purchases into her extended beaded bag, Malfoy found he wasn't surprised in the least…she _was_ the brightest witch of their age after all. From there they made their way to the apothecary to replenish their potion kits and Madam Malkin's, where they purchased a new set of robes for their final year of Hogwarts, which Hermione insisted on being a size larger than they were currently as she hoped to regain the weight she'd lost over the last year.

Throughout their morning, people seemed to purposefully avoid them. There'd been a few sneers and hissed words of contempt, but no one had hindered their shopping or challenged Draco to a duel. As they made their way towards Flourish and Blotts, Hermione noticed that Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor had reopened and offered to buy him a cone as the temperature had risen several degrees over the last few hours.

Unable to refuse her offer, Draco conceded and followed her into the shop to order his favorite praline caramel crunch alongside her black raspberry chip. Five minutes later, they were headed back out the door to their final stop of Flourish and Blotts to collect their books for school. However, as they approached the bookstore, Hermione noticed a new sign in the window that forbade both food and drink.

"Damn, it looks like we won't be able to take our ice creams inside with us," she exclaimed as they reached the shop door.

"Granger, it's not a big deal," Draco interjected, "you've already preordered our texts so I can hold these while you run in to collect the parcels. Here…" he said as he reached into his money pouch and withdrew a handful of galleons, "this should be enough to cover mine."

"Draco, that's not the point. I'm not supposed to leave you by yourself while we're out in public…"

"Look, Granger," he started with a bit of frustration in his voice. "I think I can handle standing here holding our cones for five minutes while you collect our orders," he insisted as he plucked the cone from her hand. "No one's bothered us all morning and since I promise not to run off with your ice cream, why don't you hurry inside so we can head home?" Hermione bit her lip in contemplation before determining that the errand would take only a few minutes to complete…besides, she'd be able to see him from the windows if there was any trouble and could be back out in a snap if need be. Deciding to trust him to stay where he was, she turned back to the shop and ascended the steps.

"I promise it'll only take a minute..." she uttered before quickly slipping inside.

Thankfully, there were only two customers ahead of her in line as she stepped into the dusty old shop stacked high with magical and muggle texts. Sighing while she looked around at the collection of tomes, she resigned herself to coming back a different day when Draco felt more comfortable being out in the open. It'd been nearly two years since she'd visited a bookstore and her hands itched to see what was new. While the clerk rang up another customer, Hermione glanced back outside to make certain Draco was alright.

His white-blonde hair was clearly visible just outside of the display window and she smiled as he continued to enjoy his cone. In fact, she was so absorbed in watching the way his tongue flicked over the frozen treat that she didn't hear someone approach her from behind.

"I see you're taking your advocacy _very seriously_ , 'Mione," Harry's voice rang out behind her, causing her to jump and turn away from the window.

"Merlin, Harry, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she chastised with her hand over her chest. Glancing towards the front of the store she sighed as the witch before her began arguing with the cashier over some price or another.

"Mmhmm, well if you weren't so busy watching Malfoy enjoy his food, you probably would have heard me," he chortled as she flushed red.

"I wasn't watching him eat…" she insisted as her cheeks grew steadily redder, "I was doing my job and making certain he was alright." Harry laughed heartily as she huffed in indignation and stepped forward when the clerk called her name. "Yes, I have an order for Granger, please."

"Yes ma'am, it'll only take a minute for me to retrieve it from the back, excuse me," the clerk stated before slipping from behind the counter and towards the rear of the store. Harry sidled up next to her and placed a copy of _Advanced Defensive Spells for Entry Level Aurors_ on the counter before drawing her back into conversation.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but with all of the trials going on and being there for the Weasley's it's hard to find time to talk with you…let alone without Malfoy by your side." Hermione nodded in understanding as she glanced outside once more to make sure Draco was still standing by the door, before turning her attention back to her friend. "How are things going with Malfoy? Truly? Is he adjusting well…or is he still a prat? I know he's been decent at dinner but that doesn't mean he's treating you fairly when no one else is around."

"Honestly, everything's been going rather well," she admitted, "Draco's been nothing but polite towards me…and even Kreacher, outside of their initial meeting. I know he's struggling to adjust to having the freedom to think for himself, but we knew that would take time. We're all recovering from this war, no matter if we won or lost, the scars will probably never disappear."

"That's true," Harry agreed as he reached out and gently touched the area on her arm where her scar laid beneath a glamour. "I admit you look rather lovely in your dress, but are _you_ doing alright, Hermione?" he inquired softly as his green eyes held her brown irises with a concerned gaze.

"Here you are miss," Hermione jumped at the sound of the clerk's voice but quickly turned towards him as he set the books on the counter. Secretly, she was grateful for his interruption so she wasn't compelled to answer her best friends' inquiry in the middle of the store…let alone possibly break down and admit to the horrors still plaguing her dreams. "That'll be thirty-five galleons, ten sickles, and four knut's."

"Okay, here," she said, handing over the exact amount of change. Unfortunately, the elderly clerk felt it necessary to count each and every coin, twice, before carefully tucking them into his drawer and handing over the parcels of books. Just as Hermione finished tucking them into her beaded bag, raised voices reached her ears followed by a shout and the unmistakable sound of a spell ricocheting off of a brick wall.

Draco watched Hermione from the corner of his eye, making her way to the counter while speaking with Harry. He wondered what the pair were discussing until he saw The-Boy-Who-Lived lightly touch her forearm, causing him to blanch and avert his gaze. Having been there the day she'd received the scar; he knew exactly what Potter was inquiring about and didn't wish to see the pain etched upon her face again.

Turning his attention back to the bustling streets as he continued consuming his ice cream, Draco didn't notice a group of men approach him from behind until the stocky middle one knocked hard into his shoulder. Stumbling back against the bookshop windows, Draco quickly regained his footing before shooting a glare at the four men before him.

"Sorry," the stocky man with dirty blonde hair sneered as his blue eyes roved over him, "didn't see you there."

"Obviously," Draco muttered while attempting to withhold the venomous words dancing on the edge of his tongue.

"What'd you say, Death Eater?" one of the scrawnier boys bit out as the group began to crowd Draco against the wall, leaving him no room to escape if things took a wrong turn. His grip tightened slightly around the cones held in each hand as he forced himself not to draw his wand. Knowing that all it would accomplish was a potential disciplinary hearing with his parole officer; a man he'd be meeting early Monday morning to have his wand examined for the first time.

"I didn't say anything…" he lied in hopes that they'd let it drop and be on their way before Hermione came back out of the shop.

"You calling me a liar? I heard you mumble something…"

"Yeah me, too," the stocky one cut in. "Why don't you tell us what you were mumbling about. Seeing as you bought your way out of prison, I'd like to hear what the famous _Malfoy_ has to say about me." Draco clenched his jaw and refused to rise to their bait as he looked at the small crowd gathering around them. Hermione's words about everyone hoping for him to fail rung in his ears as he waited for the people to disburse. "What's the matter? Grindylow got your tongue? Your brethren didn't seem to have any issues running their mouths when they attacked the Alley on a weekly basis, what's stopping you now?

"Hell, I don't see your advocate anywhere, Malfoy, so why don't you tell us just what you've done to our little war Heroine to slither your way out of the jail cell you belong in? We all know you paid your way out with the Ministry, but what'd you do to her? A woman like that wouldn't put her life on hold without a good pity story, so let's hear it…" he continued to heckle Draco as several heads in the crowd nodded in agreement, yet the blonde refused to speak. "I said _let's hear it_ …or do you need an incentive to loosen your tongue?" he spat before flicking his wand and sending a spell crashing into the wall beside him.

Draco stiffened as the flash of light flew past his temple and cracked the bricks lining the door of the shop, but still, he refused to move or open his mouth. Instead, he stood stoically as the man narrowed his gaze and slashed his wand once again through the air, this time slicing open several wounds across his face and down his neck. A woman passing by screamed as Draco was thrown backwards into the wall and the cones finally fell from his grasp…but he still didn't reach for his wand. He'd rather be beaten to a pulp than give them the satisfaction of having his parole revoked for defending himself.

As the man raised his wand again, the door to Flourish and Blotts burst open as Hermione and Harry came rushing out with their wands drawn. Unfortunately, the man was so enraged and focused on Malfoy that he didn't see Harry storming towards him as the hiss of _crucio_ left his lips. Searing pain engulfed every one of Draco's nerve endings for several moments before the spell was suddenly released.

Hermione had disarmed the three men surrounding their ringleader, bound them with red coiling ropes, and pinned them to the pavement as Harry tackled the stocky man torturing Draco. Gasps and murmurs filtered through the crowd as she rushed over to Malfoy's side to assess the damage.

"Draco, Draco…" she called out as he blinked up at the sunlit sky. "Oh, gods, I knew I shouldn't have gone in without you. Do you think you can stand? It'd be easier for me to apparate you to the hospital if you could…"

"N-no…" Draco uttered hoarsely as he forced himself into a sitting position. His muscles protested at being moved so soon but he knew if he didn't get up that Granger would insist on taking him to St. Mungo's. "I don't need to go to the hospital, Granger."

"Draco, you're bleeding…not to mention that that man just…"

"I've had worse, Granger, please just…just take me home," he implored her in a nearly broken voice as he refused to look at the crowd watching their interaction. He'd known it was a mistake coming to Diagon Alley, but he couldn't blame Hermione for what had happened. No, it was his own fault that he'd sent her into the store without him, letting his guard down in the process as no one had bothered them all morning…and all so they didn't have to throw out their ice creams. Staring purposefully at the pavement as they stood from the ground, he briefly answered Harry's questions before clasping Hermione's hand and apparating home.

"I can't _believe_ they attacked you like that in the middle of the street," Hermione exclaimed as she pulled him into the house and up to his room. She instructed him to remove his jacket so she could heal the cuts on his face and neck as she summoned her potions kit from the bathroom.

"They can't see past the brand on my arm," Draco responded with a shrug as blood dripped down onto the collar of his button-down. "Whenever anyone looks at me, all they see is a Death Eater…a man who enjoys torturing and murdering muggles and muggle-borns alike. It doesn't matter that the courts paroled me, they were just looking for a reason to exact their revenge." Hermione could hear the pain and desperation in his voice as he spoke and stared unseeing at the floorboards beneath his feet.

"But Malfoy, you were unarmed and clearly minding your own business," she argued as she dropped Dittany over the cuts on his skin, causing him to hiss in pain as they closed before her eyes. "They had no right to attack you for standing by the bookshop waiting for me. Besides that, your acquittal was all over the paper's _days_ ago, so they know you were forced to take the mark under threat of death…" As the last of his cuts disappeared, she flicked her wand and vanished the blood from his face.

"You don't get it, Granger," Draco scoffed and shook his head, "they don't give a damn about the reasons why I was let go. They don't _care_ that I was a sixteen-year-old kid being informed daily of what would happen if I failed in my tasks. They weren't there…they didn't have to endure death threats and the _Cruciatus_ curse whenever they failed to please the Dark Lord," his voice cracked as he spoke. Hermione took a seat beside him on the bedspread, careful to tuck her skirt around her knees, as she realized he'd been holding everything in for far too long. She wanted to give him the chance to let it out, to talk to her about whatever had broken him long before he'd been arrested.

"They have no idea what I endured while living with that _monster_ in my house," Draco continued. "They don't understand the constant state of fear I lived in while under his rule. The kind that had you warding your bedroom door every night for fear of waking to one devil or another trying to take pleasure with your unconscious body," tears formed in his eyes as he recalled two different occasions where he had to fight off Greyback from assaulting his mother in the vilest ways. "The kind of fear you have from being tortured in front of others with curses of varying strength while they all laughed as you screamed for mercy.

"Or the kind from being…" he cut himself off, ashamed of the punishments Voldemort had inflicted upon him throughout the weeks following Dumbledore's death. Two tears slipped from the corners of his eyes unbidden as he glared at the nightstand by his bed before roughly wiping them away.

"From being what, Draco," Hermione asked quietly, unsure if he'd continue and fearful of what he may say. She'd heard quite a bit of what had happened to him during his trial, but at his request portions were relayed only to the members of the court for privacy. She and Harry had always assumed it pertained to the murders he'd been forced to commit or possibly even details of revels he'd been required to partake in. However, when he shook his head to relay his unwillingness…or maybe it was his fear…of continuing on, she reached out and gently took his hand. "It's okay," she murmured. "You can tell me what he did, Draco… _I swear_ I won't judge you."

His watery grey eyes flickered to hers as he once again searched them for a lie, only to be met with concern and sincerity. Taking a deep breath, he figured he didn't have anything else to lose by talking to the witch he'd once tormented worse than Potter…a witch he now considered an almost friend. Afterall, this would be the first time he'd opened up to anyone about the life he'd lived for nearly two years.

"He…he…" Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes, unwilling to see the pity radiate from her person when she learned of his maltreatment. He cleared his throat and tried again, "After I failed in my mission," he clenched his jaw as the memories flashed in his mind's eye, "I was subjected to multiple punishments. I was _crucio'd_ repeatedly, beaten, hexed…" he blinked back tears and took a shaky breath. "The Dark Lord wanted to make an example out of me for allowing Snape to complete my task.

"Failure wasn't something he tolerated within his ranks. His punishments varied from day-to-day and when he felt as though they weren't working…because it wasn't much different than what my father had subjected me to growing up, he decided to…to…" his face scrunched in pain as he forced the words out. "He decided to allow o-others to p-punish me as a reward for their services and tr-traded me to Dolohov and Greyback for a weekend a piece." As understanding hit her, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth, unable to hide the shock and horror she felt for the man sitting beside her.

Tears filled her eyes at the mere thought of what he had endured during those days trapped with two of Voldemort's most vicious Death Eaters. Their crimes were well-known throughout the Wizarding World and Hermione felt death had been too easy a punishment for them. Their list of murders was numerous, yes, but it was how they tormented their victims before they died that caused bile to rise in her throat. Not only did they relish in breaking the bones of their victims through various forms of torture but they also reveled in breaking their spirits…and in some cases their minds.

She'd heard that Greyback and Dolohov had particularly enjoyed taking the men and having their way with them in darkened rooms where their screams echoed down the hallways. Screams other victims described as pleads for death as they were repeatedly violated. Knowing Draco had been brutalized in such a fashion broke something inside her. She had forgiven him years ago for the way in which he'd treated her in school and knew he'd never wanted the war…no matter how many times he'd hissed _mudblood_ at her.

Without asking permission or giving any warning, she wrapped her arms around his trembling shoulders, bending him sideways into an awkward hug filled with compassion and understanding. Draco instantly stiffened beneath her hold for several moments before exhaling sharply and pulling her onto his lap, where he buried his tear-streaked face into her shoulder. His arms wound tightly around her back as he held her close and broke down in gut-wrenching sobs.

No one besides his parents and the court knew what he'd suffered by Voldemort's hand. Theodore Nott was the only other individual who Draco _thought_ had an idea of what he'd been through…but he'd never confirmed his suspicions. Nott Senior, Theo's father, was one of the many Death Eaters who'd been present for several of Draco's punishments. He assumed the older man had gleefully divulged his maltreatment to Theo in one of his many drunken rages. Of course, he only assumed this because of the pitiful looks Theo had given him on multiple occasions whenever he thought Draco couldn't see him during their seventh year.

Draco was simply grateful that the dark-haired wizard had never disclosed his secrets to anyone else and always seemed to be around to help him back to his room after having one too many bottles of Firewhisky, hoping to drown the memories. He couldn't understand why today, after keeping his secrets locked inside for over a year, he felt the need to unburden himself…to Granger of all people. But he wouldn't deny that he felt both astounded and awed by her genuine compassion.

Hermione didn't protest when Draco pulled her onto his lap to hold her closer. She knew how it felt to tear open old wounds and reveal the horrors of war they'd witnessed. Knew the way in which the pain, guilt, and shame could eat at your psyche as it haunted you day and night.

The blonde-haired wizard clung to Hermione like a lifeline as he trembled in her arms and recalled every detail of his degradation. He'd spent months suppressing the memories of Greyback's nails digging into his flesh as he tore away his innocence and the pungent smell of Dolohov's breath upon his face as he checked to make sure he was still conscious. Now as he held Hermione Granger in his arms, he couldn't stop the tremors wracking his body or the tears cascading down his face from the flood of agonizing memories.

The petite witch held him tighter as she threaded her fingers through his hair and whispered in his ear to let it all out. That it would all be okay because they couldn't hurt him anymore. She held him as he sobbed into her neck and gasped for air through broken words, begging her for forgiveness and to not leave him alone.

Leaning back from his embrace, she cupped his face between her hands and wiped the tears from his cheeks while holding his gaze. "Draco, I forgave you _years_ ago," she admitted softly as he blinked tears from his eyes, "and I didn't plan on going anywhere tonight… _or_ tomorrow. I can't imagine the pain you've endured but I know from experience how difficult it is to talk about the war. Just know you can always come to me if you need to talk, or scream, or even cry…" Draco's chest convulsed as a wave of pain and gratefulness overwhelmed him at her kind words. Before he could contemplate his actions, he pulled her back against his chest and buried his face into her curls. He let go for the first time since his mother had found him crumpled on his bathroom floor, barely recognizable after Dolohov had torn most of the flesh from his back…leaving him broken and bloody after only two days of torment.

Time passed slowly as Hermione cradled Draco in her arms and stroked soothing circles down his back. When his tears finally ceased and his breathing came under control, she excused herself for a moment to use the bathroom, change into house clothes, and rein in her emotions before making her way back to his room. She paused at the door and covered her mouth in shock as she caught sight of the pale skin of his torso. He was in the middle of changing shirts with his back to her and she could clearly see the marred skin of overlapping scars stretching across his shoulders down to his narrowed waist. The cruel jagged marks showed more than just lashes from a cane or whip but that of instruments she could neither identify nor tell where they began or ended.

To give him his privacy she stepped back into the shadows, waited until he finished donning his tee, and watched as he settled onto the bed where he hung his head in his hands. His normally pale face was swollen and blotchy while his shoulders sagged with the weight of his admission and exhaustion. Hermione exhaled slowly before crossing the threshold of his room and settling once more beside him. Draco raised his head and looked at her with furrowed brows, almost as if he were confused as to why she'd come back before she smiled softly at him.

"I told you, I wasn't going anywhere, Draco, and after everything today you really need to rest," she insisted as relief stole over his features. Even though it was only early afternoon, Hermione took his hand and guided him down onto the bedspread. A slight tremor ran through his body as she gently pulled him closer to hold him in her arms while he curled himself around her and rested his head upon her shoulder. Minutes ticked by like hours as her fingertips roved through his hair and down the sinuous muscle of his arm. Before long, his breathing became even and he drifted off into a black sleep.

Slipping carefully from his warm embrace, Hermione raised her wand and spelled him into a deeper slumber before making her way down to the living room. Upon entering the room, she erected a silencing spell in order to release the emotions she'd withheld from him as he'd shattered within her arms. During that time, he'd needed her strength and comfort rather than her sympathy, therefore she'd waited to be alone before grieving the loss of his innocence.

Hermione sat curled on the couch while tears silently streamed down her face as she recounted everything he'd told her and the consequences of his failure to kill an old man. She didn't think she could possibly hate Voldemort, Greyback, or Dolohov more than she already did…but after hearing his confession she felt that hatred seep deep into her bones. Thankfully, she'd already had the pleasure of killing Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts after he'd savaged Lavender Brown, but she wondered what it would take to have Dolohov's soulless body _accidentally_ die in prison. As her thoughts drifted into dangerous territory, Harry arrived home and wandered into the room.

"Hermione?" he looked at her with a worried gaze. "Hermione, are you alright? Did Malfoy…"

"Draco didn't do anything, Harry," she responded, her voice thick from having cried for so long.

"Then what's wrong?" he inquired as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the sofa beside her.

"Oh, Harry," she began as more tears fell from her brown eyes. "It was so much worse than I thought…"

"What was?" the black-haired wizard asked, thoroughly confused.

"Voldemort's punishment for Draco," she admitted in a near whisper. Harry closed his eyes in understanding and exhaled slowly as she continued, never noticing the shift in his demeanor. "I can't tell you what he told me because it's not my place to say…but, Harry," her tear-filled gaze bored into him with a plead for him to understand, "it was so much worse than what happened to me…it…" She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the fabric of her shirt over her heart in an effort not to break down further.

"I know," Harry murmured as he reached out and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.

"What?" she questioned in a broken voice as her head snapped up. "How?"

"I knew you were going to advocate for Malfoy…hell, I knew from the moment you insisted on fair trials for everyone, Death Eater or not, that you'd fight to bring him here." Harry shook his head at the memories of her vehemence to hear out the prisoner's testimonies before locking them away in Azkaban for the rest of their lives. "I approached Kingsley after the trial and insisted on reading the report of the worst things he'd done…just in case he hurt you," he scoffed. "I didn't realize that the private testimony wasn't _what he'd_ done, but what had been done _to_ _him_.

"Kingsley tried to dissuade me from reading the file, but I told him that you'd advocated and insisted on knowing the whole story if the prat was going to be in my house." Harry swallowed, his eyes staring off into the distance as he reran the notes through his mind. "I was given both the reports and the memories to view in a pensive. Kingsley demanded I read the report before viewing the contents of the vial…I'm glad I listened to him. I don't think I'd have been able to stomach witnessing…" he trailed off unable to finish the sentence, but Hermione understood.

"Does he know that you know?" she pondered aloud after a few moments ticked by.

"No," he answered simply with a shake of his head. "I don't think he'd appreciate knowing that I read his file. I doubt he even told you everything that was listed in there."

"He told me he was punished in various ways before being given to Greyback and Dolohov for a weekend each, where they tortured and raped him repeatedly. Well, he didn't use those words exactly, but I understood what he eluded to," she blinked back more tears as he nodded his head.

"I doubt he'd want to recite everything that had happened during those few weeks," he shuddered at the mere thought of enduring what the Malfoy heir had been subjected to. "Don't ask me for details because…well, it's not something I think I could ever forget. I knew Voldemort was cruel…but to…" he squeezed his eyes shut, " _no one_ deserves what they did to him." The air became heavy with tension from the war and they sat in silence until Hermione cleared her throat.

"Did you know that Voldemort forbade them from leaving any lasting scars outside of his back?" her eyes were focused on the flames flickering in the hearth before her as she recalled catching sight of him through the crack of his door while he'd changed shirts before crawling into bed. "He's littered with so many marks you can't tell what created them or how many he actually has," she covered her mouth in an effort to hold back her sobs as more tears blurred her vision. "Harry…" she choked out, "Harry, they tortured him _for days_ …I-I barely survived a few hours, and he spent _days_ at the mercy of Greyback and Dolohov…" she trailed off as she doubled over, one hand grasping the base of her throat as the other wrapped protectively around her middle.

Harry watched as her face contorted in pain and she sunk to her knees on the carpeted floor gasping for breath. Without conscious thought, he slipped from the couch, knelt before her, and wrapped his arms around her petite frame as she cried for the blonde wizard upstairs.

Anger at the way in which Draco had been treated by the Death Eaters…especially his father's indifference to his punishment…burned through her body as pain from her own memories surfaced and mixed with the images in her mind. Uncontrollable sobs racked her body as she gripped Harry's shirt and buried her nose into the crook of his shoulder. She hated the war and still battled her own nightmares, but knowing what Draco had been subjected to made her feel weak and foolish.

Hermione had prided herself on keeping it together as he'd clung to her earlier, but now the weight of everything seemed to overwhelm her. Her breaths came in sharp rasps as she let go and allowed Harry to comfort her. After nearly a half-hour had passed, her tears subsided and she regained control of her breathing. It was hard knowing what Draco had been through, but she needed to concentrate on helping him…not wallowing in pain that wasn't her own.

Recalling that Harry had been to lunch with Ginny and her family after taking Draco's attackers to the Ministry Law Enforcement offices, she leaned back and wiped the residual tears from her eyes before looking up at her best friend "How're the Weasley's?"

"They're doing better than they were," he answered honestly. "Molly and George are still learning to cope, but I think it helps having everyone at home. Ginny's agreed to go back for her seventh year at Hogwarts and Ron and I have accepted positions in the Auror Academy. Training will begin the second week of September, which is why I was buying that book earlier."

"That's fantastic, Harry; I'm so happy for you," she exclaimed before launching herself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Thanks," he uttered with a low chuckle as he reciprocated her embrace before leaning back against the edge of the couch. "You know…" he cleared his throat, "you know they don't hate you, right?"

"It's alright if they do, Harry…they're still dealing with the loss of Fred, it's…"

"No, it's not alright," he argued. "Ron and Molly are the only two having any issue with you advocating for Malfoy. I've talked with everyone else and informed them that he had truly been through hell and deserved a second chance. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ginny, Arthur, and even George understood. Molly simply thinks he hasn't lost as much as she has and Ron believes it's a lie to keep out of prison.

"I couldn't exactly tell them what I knew because it would violate the trust Kingsley put in me as well as the privacy Malfoy requested. I mean, if that had happened to me," he nearly shouted as he stood and angrily ran his hands through his unruly hair. "If they had…" he shook his head, "I wouldn't want everyone to know. Besides, you and I both know even if I'd told them, Ron would think he'd somehow deserved it after what he's suffered through with losing Fred."

"Don't speak to me about _Ronald_ and _his suffering,_ " Hermione spat before standing from the area rug looking outraged. "He has _no idea_ what suffering is…" magic crackled in her hair as her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. "He thinks because he lost Fred and went hungry for a few months that he knows how everyone else feels…or at least _tries_ to make it out as if his case was worse than anyone else's. We've _all_ lost someone, you alone more than most, between your parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, _and_ Dumbledore.

"That's not even including friends or classmates…but if you ask Ronald, _oh no,_ " she stated sarcastically, "it's not the same because you weren't as close as he was with Fred or you didn't know them as long as he knew Fred." Each word she spoke held nothing but venom and unwavering fury. "He has _no idea_ how we feel because to him it doesn't matter as much. Malfoy, you, and I have lived through a hell of a lot worse than Ronald. He wasn't the one held down and _crucio'd_ repeatedly before being carved into, he didn't face Voldemort and death…let alone all of the trials you've lived through since birth, he wasn't raped and tortured by Death Eaters…" tears began sliding down her face once more and dripped onto the floor. "He knows _nothing_ of pain and suffering."

Harry watched as she trembled with righteous anger and took note of the raw pain gleaming in her eyes. Without saying a word, he stepped forward and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug to remind her he was there and understood exactly how she felt. He knew Ron often overlooked everyone else's problems because in his mind he always had it worse. He wasn't as rich, as talented, as coveted, as loved, or as needed as everyone else out there and to him, life continued to kick him while he was down. Nothing seemed good enough for the prat and to be frank, Harry was tired of constantly supporting him or building him up whenever he felt picked upon.

He held Hermione until she stopped shaking and her tears subsided. All the while he'd stroked her hair and reminded her that he would always be there for her because she was his sister and nothing would come between them. After a while, she leaned back from his arms and wiped her tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Harry…" she began before he cut her off.

"Don't be, 'Mione," he insisted, refusing to hear her apologize. "Ron's been nothing but a right git since the final battle. He's angry because you won't be with him and he's somehow convinced himself that he deserves you," Harry shook his head once more. "You deserve someone who sees you for the brilliant witch you are, someone who wants to put you first for a change and not only loves you but respects you for the choices you make…even when they're worrisome." Hermione smiled briefly and hugged him tightly before pulling away and walking towards the hall.

"I love you, Harry," she claimed softly as she glanced back at him, "you're the best brother I could have wished for." With that, she walked swiftly through the doorway and back up to Draco's room. He was still fast asleep when she slipped in beside him, removed the spell she cast, and curled beneath his arm.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through his window and danced across them as Hermione watched Draco sleep. He looked peaceful as he rested beside her, his breathing soft and even while the usual hardened lines of his face were smoothed…making him appear more like the eighteen-year-old boy he was rather than the man the war forced him to be. Unable to help herself, Hermione reached out and brushed the little bit of fringe that had fallen over his eyes to the side before running the tips of her fingers down his jawline.

The light touch seemed to awaken him and he blinked the sleep from his eyes before he took her in. Neither of them spoke as they stared deep into each other's irises for several long moments. Hermione swore she saw some new emotion flit within his darkened orbs as he reached out and slowly tucked a curl behind her ear, but it was gone before she could determine what it was.

"You've been crying," he whispered as his thumb trailed over the reddened blotches beneath her eyes. His throat constricted as she leaned into his touch and gave him a weary smile. "It's because of what I told you, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have said anything…" he pulled his hand away and sat up with his back to her as his breathing became labored.

"Draco, don't…don't pull away," she pleaded as she straightened up and reached for his shoulder.

"No, I shouldn't have told you…"

"Why not?" she demanded as he turned to look at her with pain riddling his eyes. "Why is it so awful for you to have finally opened up to someone about this? Or is it because it's _me_ , you regret saying anything?" she questioned him aloud, wondering if he hadn't wanted to tell her because of their rocky past.

"What? _No_ ," he retorted as he turned his upper body to look at her more clearly. "I shouldn't have said anything because it's going to change the way you treat me! I can see the pity in your eyes right now and you'll probably start walking on eggshells whenever you talk to me after this…maybe even tell Potter to keep an eye out so I don't crack again."

"Leave Harry out of this," Hermione snapped. "You want to be angry for letting me in then fine, be angry, but I'm not going to pretend that this didn't happen. And in case you didn't realize, after what you've been through, you _deserve_ pity…you're entitled to _feel something_ other than shame for being tortured for weeks on end by that sadistic fucker," her voice broke as she yelled at him and tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry if being sympathetic to what happened to you makes me a horrible person in your eyes, but where I come from it's a way to show we care."

"Granger…"

"Hermione," she bit out, "my _name_ is _Hermione_. I think if you're able to share your horrific past with me that you should at least use my first name." Magic danced through her hair as hurt and anger warred within her watery brown eyes. Draco's mouth parted as if he were going to speak but all he did was stare at her as an array of emotions flickered over his face. When it seemed like he wasn't going to say anything else she turned and began to amble out of bed. But before she could stand his hand shot out and grasped her elbow, pulling her back down beside him.

"Hermione, please don't go," he begged in a voice barely above a whisper. " _Please_ , I'm sorry…I-I don't know how to do this. Things were going pretty well between us and I just don't want you to treat me differently. My mother couldn't look at me for months afterward without tearing up or asking me a thousand times a day if I was alright…like that would undo everything I'd been through. And waking up to see that you were crying over what they did to me…I mean, I get it…but I can't live like that again. I can't move past this if everyone keeps treating me differently."

"Draco, I can't promise not to pity you," Hermione began as she turned and grasped his hand. "But I can promise to try and help you get through this any way I can."

"You don't have to do that, Gran… _Hermione,_ " he quickly corrected before she had the chance. A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips before she tore her gaze away from his and stared purposefully at their joined hands.

"Draco, I know it's not my place to ask…but…w-well have you considered speaking to a mind healer or counselor about what's happened to you?" she stammered before quickly continuing on. "I only ask because I've been seeing one myself for a few weeks and so far, it seems to help. I mean I'm nowhere near finished, but the sessions are helping me come to grips with everything that's happened over the past few years."

"I didn't know you were seeing a healer," Draco murmured as he thought over her suggestion. It was something his mother had proposed a time or two but as the war was still raging on around them it simply wasn't possible. Idly, he wondered if he was ready to speak with someone other than the brunette before him. Instead of thinking further on what he should do, he turned the conversation to her. "I apologize, but I honestly don't remember seeing you leave the house before today. Did you go this week?"

"Well, I-I sort of skipped my appointments to help you settle in..."

"You could have told me; I wouldn't have kept you from them if I'd known."

"It's not that big of a deal, Draco, I'll see Healer Mathews on Monday after we swing by the parole office for your check-in. I just didn't know if you'd want to go with me or maybe set up an appointment of your own."

"Would you think less of me if I said I wasn't ready to talk about this with anyone else just yet?" he asked warily as he stared intently at their entwined hands. Something had clearly changed between them since his confession, and though he recognized the feelings stirring within himself…he wasn't quite ready to test the waters and possibly be rejected by this particular witch. Instead, he simply held her hand and enjoyed the moment of having her within arm's reach while he could.

"No, of course, I wouldn't," Hermione promised as he glanced at her from under his lashes, "just let me know when you're ready and we can discuss it more then." Draco nodded his head in agreement before tentatively winding an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest, giving her ample time to pull away if she wished. After brushing her curls from his face, he tucked her beneath his chin and took a deep cleansing breath. And though she'd been irritated with him not five minutes before, Hermione didn't hesitate as she wound her arm around his back and burrowed deep into his chest, secretly reveling in his musky scent as he thanked her for being there for him.

XXX

The following two weeks slipped by and while everything seemed the same, much had changed. Draco had met his parole officer, Auror Richards, early that following Monday morning. The man was in his late forties with a receding hairline and greying beard, but he seemed genuine about seeing the Malfoy heir complete his parole without incident. Richards even made it a point to praise Draco for staying his wand during the attack at the bookstore. He explained that in doing so it made for a pretty cut and dry case before scanning the blondes' wand and sending him on his way.

Each Monday after Draco met with Richards, he would accompany Hermione to her therapy visit and wait in the lounge until she finished. She usually met with Healer Mathews twice a week but he only made a point of going with her on Mondays, as it was a waste of time for her to apparate him home before coming right back.

As the pair began compiling a list of nearby flats and small homes for sale to view, Draco took it upon himself to take cooking lessons from Kreacher alongside Hermione. He knew that wherever they ended up living for the next two to three years that she wouldn't allow him to employ a house-elf. And though her cooking skills were improving, he could honestly say he didn't wish to be at her mercy until they headed back to Hogwarts.

Much to Hermione's chagrin, Draco took to cooking and baking with an almost unnatural ease. When she inquired as to what his secret was, he simply explained that potions had always been his best subject, thanks to his Godfather Snape, and he approached cooking in a similar fashion. Huffing in frustration, she'd left the room in a tizzy and pulled every cookbook she could find in an effort to best him.

Their competitive natures helped bring a sense of normalcy to the household, giving them something tangible to work towards rather than dwelling on the memories of war. Unfortunately, the happiness they'd found together in the kitchen couldn't keep the terrors from penetrating their dreams and shaking them awake at night.

However, rather than continuing to face them alone, Draco often found himself waking to Hermione snuggled into his side. Somehow, she knew he needed her before he ever awoke and her presence was like a balm for his pain. He felt guilty for depending on the comfort she provided him, but couldn't find it in himself to give her up.

Once they'd narrowed down the list of properties to view, the two of them spent at least a couple of hours every day visiting them in person. They'd been to more flats and townhouses than either could recall before his persnickety advocate determined that city-dwelling wasn't really for her. Draco didn't understand why it mattered where the house was situated or what the interior looked like when they could alter all of it with a few flicks of their wrists. But for some reason, Hermione was determined to find the perfect place. It didn't matter how well any of the new listings fell within the parameters of her set budget, that she refused to allow him to change, or list of essential necessities, which they'd argued about for over an hour before coming to a compromise, there always seemed to be _something_ missing.

After having undergone yet another unsuccessful day of house hunting, Draco was found helping Kreacher prepare dinner in the kitchen while Hermione read a classic novel on the sofa in the living room. Their realtor had shown them a beautiful home on the edge of Queen's Park in Brighton with everything the curly-haired witch had requested _and_ under budget…yet she still wasn't pleased.

Unwilling to break the peace between them, Draco bit back a scathing retort before asking in an exasperated sigh what was missing _this_ time. He never expected her to glance at him with an incredulous look before informing him that she'd know the right house when she saw it. With that, their real estate agent forced a smile and bid them a good night before disapparating with a resounding _crack_.

As he finished trimming the edge of his third shepherd's pie, he was startled by the sound of a muffled cry of pain. Pausing in his work, he strained to listen once more for the sound as he wiped his floured hands on a dishtowel. Soft whimpers filtered through the doorway but were coupled with murmured words he couldn't quite distinguish.

"Kreacher, I'll be back in a minute," Draco informed the elf, who waved him off, before disappearing through the swinging door and out into the hallway.

"Please, don't…I swear I didn't do it…I _swear,_ " Hermione's voice broke as she cried out and pleaded with someone to let her go. Draco didn't need to see her to know she was reliving the night she was tortured by his aunt in the Manor, but quickly made his way down the hall and into the living room. "No…No, _please,_ " she begged as he turned the corner and found her writhing on the sofa with sweat dripping down her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pain as her body contorted, almost as if Bellatrix were there performing the forbidden spell above her.

Striding across the room as Hermione suddenly screamed out in agony, Draco gently shook her shoulder and pulled her from the nightmare with a jolt. She gasped for breath and scrambled backward against the armrest as her eyes searched wildly for her tormentor.

"Hermione, shh, it's okay, you're okay," he spoke in a soothing tone with his hands held aloft in front of him to show her he meant no harm. "It was just a dream, love…" he continued as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and quickly spilled down her cheeks. A ragged cry was torn from her lips as she clutched her chest and folded her legs beneath herself as she trembled in fear.

Recalling all she'd done for him in his time of need, Draco sat on the cushion beside her and pulled her into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her shaking form and tucked her head beneath his chin as she gripped his shirt, unconsciously digging her nails into his chest. However, he didn't even acknowledge the pain as he whispered tenderly in her ear that she was alright and how he wouldn't allow anyone to hurt her ever again.

While he stroked her hair and held her as she crumpled in his arms, he never noticed Harry observing them from the doorway. The black-haired savior stood stoically in the shadows, watching as Hermione's sobs turned to low whimpers before she drifted back to sleep in the blondes' arms. He waited for Draco to place her back onto the couch so he could thank him for taking care of her, but was surprised when he settled back against the arm and pulled a blanket over her lithe form.

Harry could hardly believe his eyes when Draco gently brushed the damp curls from Hermiones' face and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The silver gaze of the ex-Death Eater never wavered from his best friend as he caressed her cheek and she snuggled deeper into his warmth. Realizing that things had somehow altered to something more between the pair, Potter stepped quietly towards the stairwell and disappeared back into his room.

After nearly an hour, Hermione awoke cuddled in Dracos' arms on the oversized sofa in the living room. Initial confusion furrowed her brows before the memories of her nightmare and his tender words sprang to mind. Though a part of her felt embarrassed for allowing a dream to have such power over her, she knew it was her mind's way of dealing with the past.

Blinking in the dim light of the lanterns, she realized she must have been asleep for quite some time as Draco sat with her book propped against her knees while he read. His left arm was still wrapped tightly around her, his fingers lightly stroking her hair, as his right hand awkwardly flipped the pages. Tilting her head back slightly, she noted the look of concentration in his eyes as he read over the text before his mercurial gaze flickered down to her.

"Hey," he whispered as he looked at her with that indescribable emotion suffused in his silver irises. "Better?"

Unable to find her voice or the best words to convey her gratitude, Hermione nodded her head in response before curling back against him. The memories of Bellatrix Lestrange leaning over her as she carved into her arm were still fresh in her mind. Though she realized how dependent they'd become on each other, she couldn't find it in herself to leave the safety of his embrace.

Somehow in the last few weeks, Draco Malfoy had gone from being her enemy, to her parolee, to her friend, and now something of a lifeline she couldn't quite give up. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind as she burrowed deeper into him. Instead, the prat seemed to smile just a bit, making her heart flutter as that niggling thought of what it'd be like to be more than this trickled back into her mind.

However, she couldn't do that...not after everything he'd been through. She knew he needed time to heal from both the physiological and psychological damage inflicted upon him almost a year prior. Maybe then he'd consider her as something more than his advocate and confidant…but until that time, she'd just enjoy their moments together where she could rest peacefully in his arms.

They sat in a comfortable silence after that; Draco read while Hermione stayed curled in his embrace, trying her best not to overthink how she was potentially playing with fire. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep once more, Kreacher's voice broke through the air.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Minnie and young sir, but dinner is ready now," he exclaimed in his usual creaky manner. "I will gathers Master Harry from his bedroom to meet yous in the kitchens." And with that, their content little bubble was broken.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter the amazingly talented JK Rowling does…I just enjoy playing with her characters.
> 
> **As my usual Beta has taken some much deserved time off, I've started working with a great new Alpha, MrsRen, and want to thank her for everything she helped with in this chapter!
> 
> **Normally, I only leave a warning at the beginning of my stories, but due to the content of this chapter, I feel obliged to inform you that this will contain a brief but graphic scene of M/M non-con.

**Chapter 3:**

Dinner was a fairly silent ordeal as the tension in the house was palpable. It was obvious by Harry's unexpected silence that he'd witnessed some part of Draco and Hermione's interaction and clearly didn't approve.

So, as soon as Draco finished his portion of dinner, he excused himself from the table. Hermione made to immediately follow when Harry suddenly reached out and grasped her hand.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he inquired with an unreadable expression. Swallowing thickly, Hermione resumed her seat and anxiously waited for him to start, wondering all the while if it had anything to do with who she regularly shared a bed with. However, both of them were so busy trying to think about what to say that neither realized Draco hadn't slipped upstairs but stood just outside the door, eavesdropping.

"What's going on between you and Malfoy?" Harry questioned, cutting right to the point and confirming Hermione's fears.

"Noth…"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me it's _nothing_ " he abruptly cut her off with anger lacing his tone. "I saw the two of you together. Well, to be honest, I've noticed things changing between the two of you for the last few weeks, but today…" he shook his head and exhaled sharply.

"Harry, I _swear_ Draco and I are _just_ friends…"

"Bullshit, Hermione, I saw _everything_ …" Harry exclaimed in a strained voice, unknowingly causing Draco's brows to furrow as he leaned gently on the doorframe. "I was on my way down the steps when I heard you crying out, but Malfoy reached you before I could. Initially, I thought he was just helping you through it because it was obvious by your panic that you weren't fully awake. But instead of laying you down on the couch after you fell back asleep, he cradled you in his arms and _stayed_ with you. Not to mention _the way_ in which he _held_ you…"

"You're reading too much into things, Harry," Hermione insisted as she tried to stamp down the fluttering of her heart. A light blush stole over Draco's cheeks as he thought about the tender kiss he'd pressed to her brow and how he would explain it if Potter brought it up.

"Am I?"

"Yes, he was just being there for me, the same as I've been there for him. That's all…" Harry wasn't certain who she was trying to convince more, herself or him.

"Hermione, you're my best friend…my sister in every way that matters, please _stop_ talking to me as if I'm stupid," he commanded as he held her wide brown gaze. "You think I don't know where you've slept nearly every night for the last two weeks?" her mouth fell open in shock as Harry sighed. "Look, I don't care if the two of you are in a relationship…or if you're just sleeping together to help drive away the nightmares, I just wish you wouldn't lie to me. It's not like it's against the rules of your advocacy. If the two of you want to be together then _fine_ …but don't hide it from me."

"I know it's not against the rules, Harry, but I swear to you that I'm telling the truth. Draco and I are not together," her voice cracked a little as her stomach twisted. "We're friends…"

"Who have sex," he finished for her while shaking his head in disapproval.

"No," she ground out. "When we're in bed together all we do is hold each other. Similar to how you and I shared a bed _all_ of last year. It helps keep the night terrors away," she insisted as Draco clenched his jaw. He didn't like imagining Potter _holding_ her late into the night, curled around her curves as she unconsciously nuzzled his chest. Shaking the possessive thought from his mind, he waited irritably for one of them to continue.

Harry sat in silence for a long minute as he studied Hermione's imploring eyes and fidgeting fingers before finally realizing what she was trying to hide. "He doesn't know does he?" he queried in a steady voice.

"What? Of course, he knows that he's helping drive away my nightmares…just like I'm helping…"

"That's not what I meant," he interrupted her, knowing if she had her way that he'd never get to the truth. "Obviously, he's aware that you're helping one another, but he has no idea you want more than that."

Draco's heart seemed to hammer in his chest as he waited with bated breath and pressed himself as close as he dared to the door, listening intently for her response. He was certain she would laugh or dismiss the accusation altogether, promising their interactions were nothing more than that of friendship.

"I…"

"Don't deny it, 'Mione. You _like_ Malfoy…really and truly _like_ him. Don't you?" A red blush stole across her face as she averted her gaze from his knowing smile.

"Yes, _fine_ , I admit it. I like Draco as more than a friend, I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but he's a good man and I can't help how I feel," she confessed before sighing and staring down at her fingertips. "It doesn't matter though; he doesn't feel that way about me."

"Oh, please with the way he looks at you, I highly doubt that."

"No, Harry," she shook her head and looked up at him, resigned to the truth she told herself every morning when she woke curled within his arms," he doesn't." Still unaware of Draco's lingering presence, she didn't hear his sharp intake of breath or see the perplexed expression etched over his face as he tried to process her declaration.

"I think you should talk to him and find out for certain before writing things off." Harry chuckled lightly before adding, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think the two of you would be good together."

"I can't do that," she claimed as her voice shook. "If I tell him how I feel and he doesn't feel the same, it could go one of two ways. Either things become awkward between us and what friendship we've established is ruined _or_ he fears that because I'm his advocate if he doesn't return my affections I'll send him back into Azkaban, so he pretends to want me, making things strained and unbearable," she rushed out as tears burned her eyes.

"And what about if he does feel the same way?"

"He won't," Hermione muttered as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. "After everything he's been through, a relationship is the last thing on his mind… _especially_ one with me."

"What does that mean?" Harry growled, hating how she seemed to demean herself while asking the same question Draco nearly pondered aloud.

"I'm a mess, Harry. I sneak dreamless sleep potions at night and calming draughts during the day because I know he's wrestling with his own demons and needs me to help him rather than add to his pain," she cried. "I meet with a mind healer at least twice a week and am still having recurring nightmares over being tortured for little more than an hour when others have had it way worse. I'm a rubbish cook, my hair is a disaster half the time, I'm overly argumentative, a know-it-all perfectionist who's driving him batty because I can't choose a damn house and…and…" she trailed off as tears slid uncontrollably down her cheeks.

"And you're a muggle-born," Harry finished for her, knowing exactly where she was headed when she started spewing a number of insults Malfoy had thrown at her over the course of their schooling.

Hermione burst into tears as she nodded and buried her face into her hands. Sighing in irritation, Harry stood and made his way around the table before pulling her into a hug. He held her as she cried and babbled on about how stupid she was for wanting a man who had spent years telling her how much he hated everything about her.

Of course, Hermione knew Draco was no longer the smug little prat who used to pick on her, and she'd meant it when she'd told him she forgave him. However, it was one thing to forgive someone for their ignorance and callousness as a child but another to want to explore a relationship with them. Especially when he hadn't fully figured out who he was anymore or what he believed.

"Hey, shh…Hermione, look at me," Harry insisted as her tears finally subsided. "You're not an idiot for desiring a man who's shown you nothing but kindness and respect since the day he moved in here. And if I recall correctly, Malfoy hasn't picked on you since fourth or…was it fifth year? Either way, it doesn't matter, because that version of him died in the war alongside the rest of our childhoods.

"So, stop beating yourself up for liking the man he's choosing to be and just take your time to see where this leads," he paused for a moment to tilt her head up so he could look purposefully into her eyes. "I know Malfoy and I haven't always gotten on, but I can see why you like him. And…well, if he doesn't return your affections then he's a bloody fool. I know I'm a bit biased, but you are _truly_ one hell of a witch."

"Thanks, Harry," she chortled as she wiped her eyes. "I love you, and I know you mean well…but I don't think I'm gonna say anything just yet."

"Why not?" he asked wearily.

"Because Draco deserves a chance to figure out what he wants on his own. He's been controlled his entire life by his father, the pure-blood society rules, and Voldemort. I refuse to take advantage of my position and influence his choices or mold him into what I want," she explained as she pulled away from him and straightened up. Moving around the table, she gathered the dirty plates to wash while Harry contemplated what she'd said.

No matter how often Kreacher protested, Hermione regularly helped scrub the dishes by hand. Snatching up a dish towel to help her dry, Harry moved to her side and immediately set to work.

"Alright," he ascertained after a few minutes of silent work. "I understand why you don't want Malfoy to know, and I respect your choice, but just so you know I'm here for you no matter what. If things change and the two of you get together, I'll support you…might be a bit weird at first, him being my ex nemesis and all, but I'll still be here."

"Good to know," she replied with a smile. "Now, tell me about how things were today at the Ministry."

As Harry and Hermione began discussing the trial of Thorfinn Rowle, Draco quietly stepped away from the door and slowly made his way up to the shower. He didn't know what to think after hearing she wanted something more with him, but denied herself because she was afraid of taking advantage of their situation. He scoffed to himself as he ran shampoo through his hair. It was almost funny to think that after everything they'd been through in the last few years, she thought _she_ would have a negative impact on him. Didn't she know she was the only good thing he had left in his life?

Hell, he could admit that he'd gladly be whatever she wanted if it meant getting to hold her every night within his arms. Pausing as he rinsed his hair, he realized that that was the line of thought she was afraid of exploiting. Hermione wanted him to have the chance to make decisions on his own, without her being a factor. To figure out who he was and if she was really what he wanted or just a convenience he'd become dependent on.

As he scrubbed his body, Draco realized he truly did need time to work through the trauma he'd survived before he would know who he'd become…let alone what he desired his life to be. Besides that, it seemed Hermione too needed time to heal before entering a relationship that wasn't borne from dependency.

If they were to ever take…whatever this was between them to the next level, they needed it to be equal give and take. They needed to know they were both there for one another for more than just the nightmares of war. Anything less would be a disservice to not only themselves but to each other.

Rinsing one last time and stepping from the shower, Draco exhaled slowly as he examined himself in the mirror. Over the past three weeks he'd gained back some of the weight he'd lost and his overall appearance seemed healthier, but the dark circles under his eyes were still as deep as before.

Unlike Hermione, he refused to depend on calming draughts or dreamless sleep potions as they were addictive and only worked for short periods of time. However, he knew his nightmares weren't getting any better. It had been a year and, if he were honest, some days they seemed to be getting worse. Having dried off and dressed in his pajamas, Draco made his way back into his room with a new sense of determination.

He refused to be a coward like his father and pretend nothing was wrong or that the punishments he'd endured were justified. After listening to Potter and Hermione talk, he knew he needed to start figuring out what he wanted from life. His mother had made it clear that she didn't want him to squander the chance he'd been given, so he knew what he had to do…no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel.

Nearly an hour later, Draco laid in bed replaying the overheard conversation, again and again, attempting to figure out a way to take back the things he'd done as a child. It was obvious by how Hermione had broken down, that his numerous taunts over the years had not only affected her then, but had caused irrevocable damage to her self-worth. Determining that it would take a while to fix the situation, he listened intently as the witch in question made her way up the stairs and into the shower.

Waiting for her to come to bed after hearing her confession made him both nervous and hopeful of what could be. He listened to the water turn off as he stared listlessly at the ceiling above him, idly counting the cracks in the paint until he finally heard his door click open.

She was dressed in her usual shorts and oversized tee, but tonight something felt different as she tiptoed to the edge of his bed, clearly under the impression that he was asleep. As she pulled back the bedspread and slipped in beside him, he rolled to his side and startled her.

"Godric, Draco, you scared me," she exclaimed a little breathlessly. "I thought you were asleep."

"Sorry," he murmured. Moonlight peered in between the curtains, illuminating the room just enough so he could make out the soft features of her face.

"Is everything alright?" she inquired as she noted something different in the way he looked at her.

"Yeah…I've just been thinking," he paused as his heart beat wildly in his chest. "Well, I've been _considering_ what you suggested a couple of weeks ago…about seeing that mind healer you go to, or at least sitting in on one of your appointments to see if it's something that could help me."

"Really?" she questioned, surprised by his desire to seek professional counsel.

"Yeah. I've seen how you are after your sessions and they seem to be helping you," he explained, only slightly fudging the truth. "I've been battling my nightmares on my own for over a year and they don't seem to be improving. You've helped me a lot, but I-I can't live like this forever," his voice cracked slightly as he finally admitted that he needed assistance in order to recover.

"I completely understand," Hermione whispered softly as she watched a few tears slip from the corners of his eyes. Reaching out, she gently brushed them away before tenderly smiling up at him. "If you like, I can owl Healer Mathews in the morning…"

Rather than respond verbally, Draco simply nodded his head before wrapping an arm around her middle and drawing her closer. Every night they'd end up cuddled together, usually with her head on his chest as their arms wound around each other…and he refused for that night to be the exception.

XXX

At Draco's request, Hermione owl'd Healer Mathews the following morning and set up an appointment for him directly after her own on Monday. Together, they spent the majority of Saturday and Sunday viewing houses and debating whether or not she would increase her budget to find the home she so desired. Reluctantly, Hermione agreed to raise her purchase limit by another thirty thousand after the house agent swore that they'd looked at everything within reason which fulfilled her requirements.

Pleased with the new procurement parameters, their agent supplied Hermione with a relieved smile before promising to have another selection for them to view by the end of the week. She explained that she had a few unavoidable appointments to attend to through Thursday, but Draco presumed she planned to utilize her time in order to comb through every listing in Great Britain, magical and muggle alike. By the look of determination in the elder woman's eyes, he assumed that Hermione was considered a high priority client which the realtor refused to fail.

Once again, Draco offered to cover the difference as he would be residing with her for the foreseeable future but she refused to accept a single knut as long as she was his advocate. Recognizing her resolve, he dropped the subject before disapparating them back to Grimmauld Place to resume studying his advanced potions text.

Being the cunning Slytherin he'd been born and bred to be, Draco knew he couldn't suddenly begin complimenting Hermione without alerting her to the fact that he'd eavesdropped on her private conversation with Potter. So, in the days that followed, he took extra care in finding discreet ways to build up her self-worth.

While reading together on the couch or cuddling in bed, he would gently run his fingers through her hair before pulling her closer to discuss something interesting he'd learned or ask her opinion on the subject. Internally, he'd smirk at how flustered she'd become as he enjoyed the light pink tinge tinting her cheeks. When she would join him for breakfast, he'd allow her to catch sight of his lingering appraisal before averting his gaze to whichever _Prophet_ article he'd been perusing _._ He hoped in time that she would see how his opinion of her had changed and realize that she was more than just the brains of the Golden Trio.

Before his initial appointment began, Draco sat in with Hermione to see how she interacted with their Healer. He situated himself on the other end of the couch and listened as she spoke about their days in between visits and the nightmares which continued to plague her. Admittedly, he was nervous about starting a conversation with the older gentleman settled on the leather-bound office chair across from them. Outside of Hermione and his mother, he had never voluntarily opened up to anyone before. He had been raised a stoic member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and brought up to believe that showing emotion gave one's enemies power over their person.

Almost as if reading the trepidation in his eyes at the conclusion of her hour, Hermione offered to stay with him if he preferred. The simple kindness she offered meant more to him than he let on, but there were things he needed to discuss with the Healer on his own. Horrors, beyond what he'd already divulged, of which he'd witnessed and endured that he never wished to share with her.

Clearing his throat, he thanked her before asking if she wouldn't mind waiting for him in the lobby. Understanding his wish for privacy, Hermione sent him an encouraging smile before gently grasping his hand for a brief moment and heading out into the waiting area. Draco watched her go as he held his breath and slowly exhaled as the warded door swung shut.

Turning his attention back to Healer Mathews, he admitted that he didn't know how to do this…that he knew he needed to be there in order to get better but that he wasn't sure how or where to begin. As it was his first appointment, he was informed that he had been allotted two hours and with only a few inquiring questions, Draco found himself divulging much of what he had experienced during the war.

He decided to start at the end of his fifth year and described his initiation into the Death Eaters as well as the revels he was forced to attend throughout the summer leading up to what was supposed to be his final year at Hogwarts. Pain radiated through his voice as he recalled the countless screams echoing throughout the manor of women and men alike being raped and tortured for information before their lifeless bodies were discarded like rubbish. The only silver lining he could find was that participation was never enforced, so after an hour or so of making an appearance, he was able to disappear into a darkened unused room and ward the area before drowning himself in a bottle or two of Firewhisky.

From there, Draco revealed the task he had been assigned shortly after watching Greyback mutilate a terrified muggle woman on his ballroom floor. The underlying threat that his mother would suffer a similar fate, should he fail, was crystal clear in the hissed words of the Dark Lord as the werewolf smirked at him with blood dribbling down his chin. Healer Mathews listened intently as he took notes and only spoke in an effort to clarify situations which were glossed over or that he sensed Draco holding back on.

When the young wizard expressed his failure to murder Albus Dumbledore, Mathews stopped him for the day. He noted that their time was nearly up and suggested that they meet three times a week for the summer and then, once school began, they'd scale back to twice a week. Nodding his head in agreement, Draco stood to leave before noticing the Healer holding a journal out towards him. The elder wizard explained that after he spelled it with a password the binding would only ever open for him.

Realizing the book was meant for him to write down his innermost thoughts and feelings, Draco scoffed at the idea and refused to accept it. Mathews simply smiled as he watched him leave and promised it would be there whenever he was ready. Growling out a goodbye, Draco left and met Hermione in the waiting area before quickly departing home where he spent the rest of the day holed up in the library, pretending to study with Crookshanks curled on his lap.

Though Hermione's appointments were scheduled for Monday's and Thursday's, she continued to accompany Draco and waited patiently for him in the lounge area on Wednesday's and Friday's. Prior to each session, she would gently squeeze his hand for a brief moment as her warm brown gaze held his weary grey, silently lending him her strength before settling on the sofa with a tome or newspaper.

The first week was the hardest for Draco as he disclosed the constant state of fear he lived in for two years, how he was forced to crucio individuals under the watchful gaze of the Dark Lord, and the moment when he thought all was lost as he lied to his aunt about recognizing Potter, Weasley, and Hermione. Healer Mathews seemed to understand that Draco needed someone to listen more than comment as he shared his experiences and therefore continued taking notes throughout their time.

During his third session, he confessed to having eavesdropped on Harry and Hermione's conversation and how his confusion over what he wanted out of life after suffering regularly through his nightmares brought him to where he was. Casually, he explained that though he understood Hermione's reasoning, he refused to depend on calming draughts or dreamless sleep potions to get him through the night. Happy to see the concerned look in the Healer's eyes for the brunette witch as he glanced up from his notes, Draco confided his fear of never being able to move past the war and finding peace within himself before finally falling silent.

Setting his parchment notes to the side, Healer Mathews folded his hands in his lap and gave Malfoy a small smile. He informed him that, though they had a long road ahead of them, he would help him find peace as they worked through the horrors he'd survived. The wizard never promised that the trauma would be forgotten or ever fully healed, he simply assured him that he would assist him with the tools necessary to overcome all that he'd endured.

With that, he sent him home for the weekend, insisting that he rest before they began dissecting his narrative further the following Monday. At the look of confusion on Draco's face, he explained that though he had confided much of his time during the war they would be delving deeper into each memory before moving forward. He ensured that it was necessary to find meaning in each experience to begin healing. Resigned to the idea of delving deeper into the darkened memories he purposefully avoided, Draco nodded goodbye to the Healer before gathering Hermione from the waiting area.

Though he was anxious to attend his session after his weekly check-in with Auror Richards, Draco couldn't help feeling pleased with their success the day before and the home Hermione had chosen. It was only as his appointment drew closer, while waiting patiently in the lounge, did he wonder what method Mathews would use to begin. He was so consumed with his inner monologue that the receptionist had to tap him on the shoulder to gather his attention.

"Mr. Malfoy, Healer Mathews would like to see you now," she supplied before turning back to her desk. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he glanced at the grandfather clock, standing in the far corner of the room, and realized there was still twenty minutes until his scheduled time.

"Miss, are you sure? My appointment isn't until…"

"I'm well aware that your appointment isn't until eleven, Mr. Malfoy, but Healer Mathews has requested your presence for the remaining time of Ms. Granger's hour," she interrupted him with a brisk tone. "Now, please gather your things and head in…they're waiting." Refusing to reply, Draco snatched up his copy of the morning _Prophet_ alongside his cup of tea before striding to the office door and slipping inside.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for joining us," Mathews began while Draco settled himself on the sofa alongside Hermione.

"Not a problem…" he automatically replied as he briefly took in Hermione's irritated demeanor.

"Well, I've asked you here a bit ahead of schedule because there are a couple of things we need to discuss," he hedged as his gaze flickered to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, if you would please…" Before turning her attention to Draco, she pursed her lips as if to refuse his request but seemed to think better of it as the Healer arched a greying brow.

"As you and I will soon be moving out," Hermione ground out, "Healer Mathews wanted me to… _admit_ to something I've been hiding from you." Her jaw clenched as she stared unblinkingly at the coffee table before them, clearly determined not to witness his reaction. Draco watched as her fingers gripped the hem of her pale pink summer dress and instinctively knew what she was referencing.

"Hermione…" Healer Mathews prompted when she seemed reluctant to continue. Tears welled in her eyes and she tilted her head back to blink them away as she bit her lower lip. With a few deep breaths, she seemed to gather her nerve before turning towards Draco and meeting his reassuring grey gaze.

"Since the end of the war I've been alternating between calming draughts and dreamless sleep potions in an effort to combat my night terrors," she stated factually. "I'm aware that they can be rather addictive and I've tried to only use them when sleep eluded me, but…well…after we started to share a bed, I didn't want to be a bother," she sighed in frustration. "As you've seen first-hand, my nightmares can be rather _intense_ and, though I've tried not to abuse them, I've found that I am quite dependent now. Healer Mathews thinks it's best for me to stop using them and wants you to be aware of the situation since we will be living on our own shortly."

"I see," Draco expressed coolly as he held her weary gaze. Even though he was well aware of the situation he still wanted to know why she'd hidden everything from him. "So, after _everything_ I've shared with you, you thought what? That you couldn't _trust_ me? That I was too _broken_ to understand or h-help you?"

"What? No, Draco, no I swear it wasn't anything like that!" Hermione exclaimed as she quickly maneuvered herself across the cushions and grasped his hand. Her warm brown irises implored him to listen as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. "I took them because I didn't want to be a bother and add to your pain. You've been through so much and I know you're barely sleeping as it is…I wanted to be there for you, to help _you_ ," her voice broke as a few tears slipped from her lashes.

Reaching up, Draco brushed them away with his knuckle before gently trailing the tip of his finger down her jawline. "Hermione, I could never consider you a bother. I've let you in and shared more with you than _anyone_ else, outside of Healer Mathews that is. But I wish you hadn't knowingly endangered yourself in some noble attempt to minimize your own needs. I thought we were helping each other through this…I thought," he paused and swallowed back the idea of meaning something to her before pushing on, "these sessions had lessened the number of nightmares you were having. I guess I should have known better."

"Draco, you _have_ helped me," she declared though he averted his gaze. Grasping his face between her hands, she turned him back to look at her "You _have_ helped me. The potions only last a few short hours before my subconscious slips back to the final battle or your manor. Sometimes they jolt me awake before you're up and other times you've pulled me from the terrors. You've held me when I've cried and helped me back to sleep…"

"Not nearly as many times as you have for me," he countered irritably.

"But you've still helped…"

"But I could have done _more_ " Draco proclaimed. "Don't you get it, Hermione, I feel like a burden to you and the one thing I could have truly helped you with, you hid from me. You _hid_ this!" Tears slid freely down her cheeks as she stared into his pain-riddled gaze and intertwined her fingers with his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly. "I'm so sorry, Draco." Though a part of him was still hurt by her actions, he hated to see her cry. Momentarily forgetting that they weren't alone, he released her hand and pulled her onto his lap where she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder. Winding her arms around his neck she continued to apologize, swearing he wasn't a burden and that she would be better as he tightened his hold around her back.

"It's okay, Granger, shh…" he murmured by her ear. "We'll get through this…I'll help you with whatever you need."

"I'm supposed to be the one helping you," she argued. Leaning back to look into her eyes, Draco brushed a few curls away from her face before he cupped her cheek.

"Potter may let you boss him around as he believes you to be an infallible witch, but you forget that I was second in our year and Snape was my godfather. I'm well aware of how addictive those potions are and, though you're an outstanding witch, you are going to need help. You may be able to fight the temptation during the day, but in the middle of the night when you're sleep-deprived and shaking from withdrawal, you'll need me." Nodding her head in acceptance she curled back into his embrace, clinging to his button-down as she took several deep cleansing breaths.

Having assumed Harry had outed her, Hermione had been rather angry at the beginning of her session as Healer Mathews questioned her on the subject. However, that quickly gave way to embarrassment when she was instructed to inform Draco. She had never planned for him to find out about the potions or her inability to sleep without them.

Now though, as she sat curled against him, she could only hope he forgave her for her weakness. For her inability to ask for help when she needed it most because she was so used to being the person everyone else depended upon. She knew without a doubt that if he pushed her away that she wouldn't be able to give up the potions. His presence was a balm for the horrors that plagued her mind and when she was wrapped in his arms the world often fell away.

Therefore, she jumped in surprise when Healer Mathews cleared his throat. Rather than allow her to scramble off his lap and back to her seat, Hermione found Draco settling her beside him with her hand grasped in his. "Well, now that the two of you are on the same page, Hermione mentioned she's _finally_ bought a house," their Healer began. As Hermione blushed a deeper shade of red, the elder wizard turned his focus to Draco. "She told me a little bit about the place, but I'm interested to know if you felt it was worth the wait?"

Thinking back over the weekend, Draco recalled listening to the realtor explain that, even though the cottage was in West Sussex just outside of Petworth, they would be able to apparate to the front patio as it was in a secluded wood. Having refused to look at any more leaflets on homes Hermione would turn down after only a moment's glance, he'd wait to form an opinion until she was at least willing to look inside.

However, as they landed on the cobblestone patio looking out over the lush woods surrounding the property, he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm settle within his magic. Wildflowers swayed in the overgrown grass of the clearing while clematis vines crept up the sides of lower creek stone walls of the home. The top level had a Tudor style design with cream-colored stucco and rich brown wooden trim beneath a slate tiled roof. After sharing a look of interest with Hermione, the pair made their way inside to view the rest.

He was surprised to find a rather clean home with, what he'd learned during the course of their house-hunting, several modern touches. Newly refinished hardwood floors ran the length of each room with muggle lighting and beige-colored walls trimmed with sculpted crown molding. The first level held a wood fireplace in the living room, a half-bath, a formal dining room which lead to a conservatory overlooking the meadow, and an open kitchen with a large center island, marble counters, and newly updated cabinets. Upstairs there were four bedrooms with high vaulted ceilings, wood beam accents, and two full baths; one which included a deep soaker tub and separate shower.

With only a glance at Hermione, Draco knew it was the home that she'd been waiting for. Though smaller than Malfoy Manor, he preferred the serene atmosphere the cottage offered. Hermione didn't even hesitate to bid the full asking price and before Sunday dinner rolled around, they had the acceptance letter in hand.

"Yeah, it was," Draco answered easily before Healer Mathews tilted his head, silently urging him to explain. "I understand what she was looking for now" he supplied as Hermione turned to him with an inquisitive lift to her brow. "Hermione didn't just want a house, but a home that brought her a sense of peace as it was untouched by war. A place free of nightmares or designs which were similar to places she'd been over the last year. And that's what she found…a serene cottage nestled back off a country road just outside of a muggle town and, if I didn't know any better, I would say it had a touch of magic all on its own," Draco admitted as a genial smile spread across Hermiones' lips.

XXX

In some ways, the rest of the week flew by as they selected paint colors for the new house, determined which bedroom would be made into the library, and argued over who would have the master suite. Becoming fed up with her and their endless debate, Draco finally snapped and informed Hermione that it didn't matter which bedroom was who's as long as the bed was comfortable and still large enough for them to share. He couldn't help but smirk after leaving her standing in the middle of the kitchen with her mouth ajar.

Rather than purchase all new furniture, Draco suggested she pick through his vault and use anything she fancied. Initially, she argued against utilizing his family's antiques until Harry pointed out that it would give her time to finish school, obtain a position, and save for the furniture she wanted when Draco moved out. He even proposed that if she didn't find everything she needed in Malfoy's catalog that she could choose anything from his.

In other ways, the week dragged on. Their sessions with Healer Mathews were grueling and the nights were longer as Hermione abstained from taking her usual potions. Waking frequently throughout the night, she'd scream out from the memories of the fallen at the Battle of Hogwarts or being attacked by Nagini in Godric's Hollow.

The initial withdrawals of the potions seemed manageable until the fifth night rolled around. Sensing something was wrong, Draco jolted awake only to find an empty space beside him. It didn't take him long to find Hermione fumbling through the cabinets in the upstairs bathroom, searching for the potions she'd begrudgingly surrendered to Harry late Monday evening.

Understanding her duress, Draco placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump as she clutched a pale blue vial to her chest. Shaking her head as tears filled her eyes, she told him she couldn't do it, that it had all become too much and she just wanted to sleep without seeing faces of the dead. Stepping forward, he gently cradled her head between his hands and promised that it wouldn't last forever. That the first two weeks would be the worst but he'd be there every step of the way. Finally giving in, she returned the vial to the previously warded cabinet before allowing him to steer her back to bed where she practiced her deep calming breaths until sleep overcame her.

Though Draco regularly held her through the tremors while the phantom pains of Bellatrix's knife dissipated, she still took the time to soothe his pain in return. Often trapped in his darkest memories, usually following a session with their Healer, he would thrash back and forth in his sleep as he mumbled incoherently. It was in those moments, where the shadows of night seemed to press in around them, that Hermione felt grateful to Healer Mathews for insisting on coming clean with Malfoy.

Before long, the cottage was decorated with dark wooden furnishings, luxurious overstuffed leather-bound sofa sets, and a hand-carved king-sized mahogany bedroom suite which Hermione had fallen in love with the moment she laid eyes on it. Though she tried to only choose necessities when perusing the boys' vaults, she couldn't help selecting a few pieces of artwork to add a splash of color to the walls.

By the second week of July, the pair had moved out of Grimmauld place and were comfortably living in their new home. Draco had slowly adjusted to the muggle appliances and new clothes in which Hermione insisted he buy. Though he could admit that the jeans were comfortable, he found he rather enjoyed the way they hugged Hermione's curves as she wandered around the house. He still had trouble acclimating to large crowds as they visited town or apparated to Diagon Alley but his pushy little advocate refused to allow him to remain behind.

Naturally, Draco wasn't surprised when Healer Mathews agreed with Hermione. He believed that leaving the house, outside of standard appointments, would help restore a sense of normality the war had stolen from them. Conceding to the Healer's point, Draco finally confessed to his conflicting feelings for the curly-haired witch and how he was fearful that they were fabrications of his dependency.

Mathews promised him that what he felt was completely normal and urged him to take his time before making any decisions. Shifting the conversation away from Hermione, they began dissecting the task he'd been assigned by the Dark Lord and the events leading up to the night Dumbledore died. They discussed his fears, regrets, plans, and unwillingness to kill, knowing he would likely be punished.

By the time his hour was up, Draco felt emotionally raw and reticent as he met Hermione in the lobby. Sensing his unease, she waited until they reached the atrium to grasp his hand and disapparate home. While she headed into town for groceries, he spent the rest of the day playing with Crookshanks in the garden as he tried to focus on centering his mind and the meaning he'd derived from his memories.

As evening rolled around, he made his way inside and helped prepare dinner while listening to the small wireless radio settled in the corner of the kitchen. Feeling a little more like himself, he inquired about the market and if there was anything new in the paper. Hermione happily indulged him for the remainder of the day and by the time they slipped off to bed he had done his best to forget the session altogether.

Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas as he drifted to sleep curled around the petite brunette. He was unaware of the sweat beading his forehead as he twisted away from Hermione or the whimper which escaped his lips as his subconscious swept him deeper into his darkest memories.

_His back arched with each crack of the whip and he cried out in pain as the flesh was ripped open once more. Tears streaked his face as iron manacles bit into his wrists, rubbing them raw as they hung suspended midair. After hours of being flogged with various instruments, his legs gave out and he'd collapsed over the circular table situated before him._

_"Have you had enough?" Dolohov's rough voice rang out behind him with a hair-raising cackle. Draco flinched and tried to pull away when he felt the Russian man's hand trail over the ragged wounds littering his body. A whimper tore from Draco's raw throat as fresh tears slipped from his lashes and disappeared into the blood pooled on the floor._

_"P-please...n-no m-m-more," he begged._

_"Ah, I love the sound of begging so early in the morning," Dolohov chortled as his hand slid down the tattered skin to the blondes' narrow hips. "Now," his voice dropped low as he leaned forward and whispered into Dracos' ear, "beg me to give you pleasure if you wish to avoid any more suffering." Bile rose in the young wizards' throat as he felt the man press his clothed erection to his backside. "If you're a good boy, I'll even consider healing some of these..." he stated as he ran a finger over one of the deeper wounds, causing searing pain to ripple down the Malfoy heir's spine._

_"Please," Draco begged in a barely audible whisper. "P-please no more p-pain."_

_"Close enough," Dolohov sighed. Laying hunched over the table with blood dripping down his porcelain skin, he squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the rustle of robes being removed. Within moments, a hand gripped his arse and he felt the brush of the man's tip nudge his entrance..._

Wrenching himself from the dream, Draco shot straight up in bed, frantically searching the dark for a dead man who'd repeatedly violated him in the cruelest ways. Though he consciously knew Dolohov's soulless body resided hundreds of miles away in the North Sea, he couldn't keep the panic from consuming his thoughts and therefore recoiled against the wall beside him as he caught movement to his right.

"Draco?" Hermione's sleep-filled voice inquired as she wandlessly lit the candles situated on their nightstand. He visibly relaxed while his eyes focused in the dim light and he realized they were the only two in the room. "Draco, what is it?" she questioned as she took in his sweat-drenched skin and fear-filled gaze. Before he could formulate an answer, a sob broke free from his chest and he curled in on himself, winding his arms around his knees as the horrific images of his dream played across his mind.

Understanding finally penetrated her sleep-addled brain and without saying a word Hermione crawled to his side and wrapped him in her arms. His entire body trembled as tears continued to slide down his cheeks and she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, reminding him that she wasn't going anywhere. Before long, she disentangled his arms and worked her way onto his lap where she curled herself around his torso and held him tight.

His lean arms wound around her back as his hands gripped at the thin fabric of her nightshirt. Her tender soothing voice was a balm for his pain as she softly murmured in his ear "It's okay, Draco, let it out...let it all out. I'm right here." He buried his face into the crook of her shoulder as his left hand wove its way into the curls at the base of her neck. Even after weeks of leaning on each other, he still felt undeserving of her kindness as she tenderly stroked his scarred back through his dampened tee. Rather than turn her away and wallow in his self-deprecation alone, he held onto her for all he was worth...no matter how little he thought that might be.

As the minutes slowly ticked by, the trembling in his body ceased and his breathing slowly returned to normal. Sensing his reluctance to release her from his embrace, Hermione leaned back and cradled his face between her palms before gently wiping away the stray tears from his red-rimmed eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips as she spoke. He shook his in response and gazed pointedly at the bedsheets as shame overtook him. How could he divulge his nightmare? Explain how he'd begged a psychotic Death Eater to rape him rather than beat him? He was certain if she knew the truth that she'd turn from him and whatever feelings she might have held for him would turn to revulsion. "Draco," she began as if reading his thoughts, "talk to me. I swear no matter what you say I won't leave. Draco, I'm right here..." she dipped her head so her penetrating brown eyes could meet his weary grey.

"I c-can't…" he uttered brokenly as she tilted his head up towards her.

"Draco Malfoy, how can I help you get past this if you won't ever tell me what you dreamt?" she questioned sharply.

"You can't help me..."

"Excuse me?" she ground out. "I may not be a licensed mind healer, like Healer Mathews, but I've attended enough sessions to know it's best to talk about your nightmares rather than keep them bottled inside."

"You've helped enough as it is, Hermione…" he supplied firmly, hoping she would just let it drop so he could shower before returning to bed. Instead, she pressed her advantage and leaned her forehead against his as she peered up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please, Draco, don't shut me out. You've been there for me time and again as I've cried and shared the terrors which haunt my dreams. Let me be here for you." He tried to look away as a mixture of pain and fear churned within his stomach, but she grasped his face within her hands and refused to let him withdraw.

"I have good reason not to share, Hermione...I don't want to lose you," he admitted quietly.

"You won't," she insisted, "I swear I'm not going anywhere." Draco swallowed nervously as he contemplated disclosing the darkest part of his past. She knew he often dreamt of the torment he'd suffered at Greyback and Dolohov's hands, but he'd never intended on giving her the graphic details. Feeling backed into a corner, he let out a shaky breath before conceding. Deep down he knew he wanted more with the curly-haired witch, and if that were to happen then she deserved to know the truth.

"I was reliving my punishment with Dolohov," he began as he reached up and gently took hold of her hands before lowering them to her lap along with his gaze. "He had me chained, standing by a small end table as he whipped me raw for what felt like hours," he breathed, refusing to meet her pitying stare. "I'm not sure when, but before he'd finished, I'd collapsed over the table, bent double as my hands hung suspended above me by manacles. He...he..." fresh tears filled his eyes as his breath started to come in short gasps.

"He what, Draco?" she inquired in a barely audible whisper, urging him to continue. His lip visibly trembled as the gathered tears fell freely between them and his hold tightened around her fingers.

"He asked if I'd had enough…and when I b-begged him to s-stop, he told me he would if I..." he paused briefly, squeezing his eyes shut, "if I begged him for pleas-sure instead." Unprepared for his admission, she momentarily closed her eyes as she fought back tears and swallowed thickly.

"Oh, Draco..."

"It hurt so much, Hermione, he'd whipped me for so long I just wanted the pain to stop. I-I didn't really want him to...to..." he choked over the words as he dropped her hands and covered his face in shame. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he waited for her rejection, her disgust at knowing the man she'd come to care for had crumpled in such a manner.

"Draco..." she uttered softly as he shook his head and tried to disentangle himself from her. "Please don't pull away, I understand..." he lifted his head and stared at her questioningly with bloodshot eyes. "You wanted the pain to stop..." she emitted as she held his penetrating gaze. Nodding his head in agreement, he broke down once more as she pulled him back into her embrace.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm so s-sorry," he choked out repeatedly through his tears.

"Why are you sorry?" she queried in confusion.

"I begged him t-to…to take me. I begged him, Hermione. I was weak and just wanted the pain to stop…I-I…"

"Stop, don't you _dare_ blame yourself for the maltreatment you received by Dolohov's hand," she stated heatedly. "He beat you into submission before you gave him what he wanted."

"It doesn't matter, I still begged for it..."

"Draco Malfoy, you answer me honestly right now," she demanded, gripping his cheeks and forcing him to meet her fierce gaze. "Before he whipped you, did you want to have sex with him?" He fervently shook his head 'no' in response as she pressed on. "Did you want to be beaten or belittled?" Again, he answered in the negative. "Then it was still rape," she stated flatly. "Even when you begged him, you didn't want it. You just felt that anything would be better than the torture you'd endured for hours." He nodded his head as she brushed back his hair and lightly trailed her fingertips down the bridge of his nose and over the tender swelling under his eyes.

"I just wanted it to stop," he murmured as he felt her stroke the sharp line of his jaw down to the point of his chin.

"I know," Hermione breathed as the tip of her index finger hovered just beneath his lips, "I know exactly what you mean. After all, I begged Bellatrix to stop after only spending an hour beneath her wand." Torn from the yearning sensation overwhelming his senses as her hand fell away, Draco's worn grey eyes flickered to her glistening brown and an understanding passed between them. Both of them had endured pain and torment by the hands of Voldemort's most revered Death Eaters…and both had crumpled before the end. It didn't mean they were weak, they'd each lasted a lengthy time before begging their attacker for mercy. The only difference was that Hermione had been rescued before giving in to her abusers' demands…and Draco hadn't.

"I never wanted...it... _any_ of it," he professed, knowing she'd understand he wasn't just referring to his punishment.

"I know," was all she said before she slid from his lap, pulled him down onto the bedspread, and pillowed his head upon her chest. He wound his arms around her as he snuggled deeper into her embrace, sighing as she ran her fingers through his hair. Together, they laid there wrapped in each other and a contented silence until soft beams of sunlight began to filter through the window.


End file.
